#orpiment au

[randomwriteronline]

He hears him before he sees him.

That is not something that will ever change - in a sense it is quite comforting, that even in a constantly mutating world one thing can remain the same: the fact that he is still heavy enough to make his arrival sound like an approaching thunderstorm, that he has not lost the peculiar gracelessness of his brand of speed, that he likes to run his mouth just as much as his legs.

"You're a lot thinner than the last time I saw you," Pohatu tells him.

Krika regards him with half-lid eyes: "And my brother's leash is just as tight around your neck still, it would seem."

"Stop that," the Toa shuts him down instantly, his genuine amiable tone gone in an instant to be replaced by a cold vitriol. If the Makuta had a tongue, he might have considered biting it. "That joke has never been funny in the first place."

"It is no joke, Toa."

"Then find something else to greet me with, Makuta."

To say Krika had felt something deeper, once, for such a sad being - to say any of them had at some point been moved towards him by something other than an awkward pity, a half-hearted annoyance, a slight cautious curiosity - would be maybe not a full lie, but certainly an exaggeration. None of them was attached to him enough to pry Teridax's hold off of him until it was too late to even try to get through to him, after all; so perhaps this sudden rush of melancholic compassion is akin to a crocodile's tears after it has senselessly devoured its own young.

It remains that, for a reason unknown, the towering insect-like being tilts his head to better observe the warrior before him.

"You're much more orange than I remembered," he indulges him: "And somehow even shorter."

A booming laugh: "It's the armor," Pohatu replies so wonderfully earnest and open and bright as though he had never once been angry in his frighteningly bitter life: "Too compact."

He drops from the air onto the sturdiest branch he could have found with his entire weight, bouncing on it as it perilously bends towards the swamp waters before struggling to pull itself back up. He dangles his feet in a carefree manner, like a Matoran who snuck away from work. A tentative fondness that was there many millennia ago rekindles for a moment only within the Makuta, to ache with nostalgia: for a moment he can almost picture his old laboratory, and the suspended catwalk that led to the shelves of viruses and carefully preserved failed attempts upon which the Toa would sit just like that so he could watch him at work without interfering.

"So," Pohatu beams: "It's been a while."

"It has."

"I met Mutran on the way here. Most of the others too - the ones up in the sky. They've gone blind, by the by."

"I was aware."

"Of the Matoran, too?"

"Yes."

The Toa hums. Evidently he does not appreciate the shadow leeches too much.

"I passed through him with my Kakama Nuva," he continues.

"Mutran?"

"Yes."

"Riveting."

"It was disgusting, mostly. Oh, and I saw Gorast. I had to knock out Photok before she'd jump on him - ah, you don't know him, right? No, he's from the stalagmites. Resisting against you. So yes, I had to knock him out and fly him to safety and then get back down. A bit of a hassle."

"How is my sister faring, in your opinion?"

"As positively furious as ever. Maybe even worse."

"She has indeed been degrading."

"Hm. Maybe it's the bog air. Or the humidity. Either way I can't really blame her."

Of course you can't, the Makuta only thinks, keeping quiet.

You are becoming ever more like her.

"Ah - watch for Takua- Takanuva. He's arrived too."

"The fabled Toa of Light?"

A nod. "He isn't supposed to be here. They sent him, I think."

"Who would be 'they'?"

"Probably the Order of Mata Nui - the Turaga don't have the means to set a single foot here, let alone send someone. You'll recognize him immediately, he's gotten huge."

"Duly noted."

"Anyhow, how have things been down here?"

Krika shrugs: "Gorast almost killed your sister," he relays. "Bitil had your Earth brother subjugated briefly, and your Fire brother - Tahu, isn't he? - nearly burnt down the entire swamp."

"Hm," the Toa only hums, monotone. "Shame."

The way he says the word causes the other being to stiffen his spine: "Do not speak like that."

"Like that how?"

"Do not be coy."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"You should not wish death upon your siblings."

"Because you don't?"

"The Toa Mata are following the path destiny has decided for them," the Makuta snaps at last. "Teridax has tried to twist and bend fate to his own ambitions, and in doing so he has doomed himself, the entire Brotherhood and you with him. To wish him dead is to wish for the Universe to keep on living - it is far from a childish desire born of an ancient grudge that has no reason to exist."

"Watch it."

The words coil quiet, dangerous, around Krika's neck much like a noose of rock.

The fallen stalactites groan like suffering Rahi as they shift.

One must wonder, between him and the last of the Makuta's sisters, if this kind of taste for cruelty is something innate or if his traitorous brother simply has a talent for driving people to it.

The silent threat is not quite empty. Yes, Pohatu will not kill him: he is a Toa (he takes pride in that for it's all that remains outside of Teridax he can still hold onto to tell himself he is worth anything) so he observes the code like his life depends on it, and it is not at all in his nature to consider inflicting pain fun, or satisfying; but he can trap him with little to no air or agonizingly crush his limbs flat between walls of stone, and his slowly marinating anger will find it endlessly gratifying despite any aversion to torture.

But Pohatu is, fundamentally, a weak being.

Oh, he has all the power he needs. His mastery over his element is egregious and his speed unmatched. But at the end of the day he is nothing but a soft toy, a spineless marionette to pull the strings of; one day - because it will happen, one day - someone will snip at a wire, purposefully or not, and that will be all it takes to send him tumbling to the floor.

His sharp limbs carve holes into the wood.

Slowly, Krika elevates himself from the bog and comes to stand upon the branch, light and graceful like a terrifyingly posed skeleton, towering over the little Toa.

His head bends down to look into blue eyes.

Pohatu simply cranes his neck and stares back, tranquil, unafraid, like a child.

"We will not leave Karda Nui," the Makuta sentences. His tone is low, funerary. "Our brother has planned our demise the moment he decided to betray Miserix. We are nothing to him, as are his Kraata, as are you. He has no need for a court beside him to rule the universe. We will outgrow our purpose soon. He will leave us to die like vermins. This shall be our grave."

A stretch of silence.

The gaze replying to his own is calm.

"Sorry," Pohatu says without even the vaguest trace of emotion.

Krika leans down, down, down, closer, until his mask grazes the other being's and his already rotting breath seeps into the seams of Artakha's armor.

"You are not exempt from this fate, little Toa." he breathes. "You are no different in his eyes from me. We are pawns. Tools to be discarded for the sake of a megalomaniac's ego. Teridax will suppress you as soon as your bones begin to creak. He holds no love for you."

"Do you?"

No answer.

"Do you love me?" Pohatu repeats. His tone holds the certainty of those who are lied to so profoundly that the truth becomes laughable to their eyes. "Do you?"

The Makuta remains silent.

"No," the Toa answers for him, "No, you don't."

There would have been a time where Krika would have scared him with a simple glare. It was the time where Pohatu was only a pitiful being who'd known nothing but fighting and fighting and more fighting, who was too curious to leave beakers untouched and kept almost dropping them.

"None of you do."

"We were fond of you," comes out of the white mask suddenly, a raucous strained sound, like something he didn't know himself.

"Yes," Pohatu replies: "Like my siblings are fond of me now. So nice, and kind, and gentle, because they don't remember they used to be the scum of the world. They've been getting memories, you know?" he pipes up - he smiles, tilts his head, leans it so close that Krika pulls back, looking almost excited. "They've been remembering things."

"Pohatu," the Makuta struggles to speak.

"They don't remember me, of course," he continues, trampling over the words the other tries to wheeze out. His fingers begin to sink into the wood on which he sits. "They have no reason to, of course. I wasn't them. I wasn't worthy of being with them. I wasn't wise or strong or stubborn enough. I wasn't memorable. Despite being there. Despite being there from the beginning just like all of them. Did you know, while we were on Voya Nui - you do know about Voya Nui, right? Ah, doesn't matter - we had to blow up a rock. A rock! A rock. And do you know? Do you know what my brothers did?"

"Your memories are poisoned."

"Tahu, and Kopaka - because they are the leaders, aren't they? They are the ones who take all the decisions and who everybody follows because they are louder than everybody else, aren't they?"

"Your own bitterness has corroded them."

"They started burning and freezing the rock. Burning. And freezing. The rock. Burning and freezing! Because that's what they do!"

"You can't rely on them."

"Because that's what they always do, that's all they can do! And I was standing there, you know, I was right there. Right there, right there next to them! A step away! Maybe two! I had to walk up to them! And blow up the rock for them! And I had to tell them, you know? Remember me? I am Pohatu! I do rock! For them to realize, oh! Yes! There is a Toa of Stone with us! How did we forget! Must have been because he wasn't in our immediate field of vision!"

"You are spiraling into your-"

"SHUT UP!"

The branch produces a ghastly crack as his fingers pierce it.

Pohato heaves, tries to keep talking, then hushes when his throat catches on a knot and the story he was telling stops sounding funny. He exhales out loud, hard, suddenly out of breath. His head feels like it's spinning and the swamp's odor does not help.

Krika observes him silently.

Hasn't this happened before? Something like this?

He'd sobbed too loud and choked on his own sadness, and the room had gone quiet and dozens of eyes had stared at him in a mixture of fear and concern.

When was it?

A hundred millennia ago?

He did not remember being comforted.

"Everybody is fond of me," he manages to wheeze: "Everybody is fond of me, and nobody remembers me."

His arms are shaking.

"My brothers sleep easy because they don't remember abandoning me and the Av-Matoran. They're fond of me because they don't remember hating me. But I know who they are. I know."

"You do not."

Blue eyes pierce through the Makuta: "And you do?" he asks, mockingly.

Krika stands his ground: "I have given your sister the chance to leave this dreadful place behind before her death was sealed."

"How nice."

"She has refused, for the sake of her brothers."

"Give her a minute."

"You have deluded yourself across these thousands of years."

"I am perfectly lucid."

"As lucid as Teridax wants you to be."

"Teridax cares about me," Pohatu says.

It is not a snarl. There is no anger in his voice. He is calm, reassured. Unshakeably certain.

He stares at the Makuta darkly.

"He's cared about me since the beginning. He has never left me to rot in my thoughts like the rest of you. He has never abandoned me." he murmurs.

His booming voice is so quiet, barely above a whisper, and as horribly bitter as Lerahk poison.

"I don't need your forgetful fondness," he speaks softly. Almost tiredly. Maybe he's done it - he's burnt himself thin at last. "Nor my siblings' two-faced kindness."

"Then you will be alone, little Toa. More than you already are."

"Don't push your own grievances onto me."

The branch sways violently.

Caught by surprise, Krika clutches the bark tight between his claws. It takes him a moment to realize he is now the only being still on it as it lashes out wildly: a flash of orange catches his attention at the edge of his vision and he whips his head around.

Pohatu treats him to an empty look, curled up in mid-air, ready to disappear.

Cold bitterness burns in his eyes.

"He is ripping you from your destiny, little Toa!" the Makuta shouts: "He is leading you to slaughter!"

"My destiny is to serve the Great Spirit; his destiny is to become it," Pohatu replies sharply above the sound of his armor's propellers, letting him know his warning has fallen on deaf ears. "If you can stomach to mention my name, tell your siblings I said hello."

His mask glows for a single instant - then he's gone.

Krika only stares at the point in space that the Toa occupied barely a fraction of a second ago, catching for a moment, impossibly slowed in time, his afterimage; for what is merely an instant it looks small and brown and tan, orange eyes gleaming with a guilt he can't let go off and a too focused vitriol that makes his heartlight stutter sickly, hiding behind a shelf in a clumsy attempt at pretending he wasn't poking curiously at the vats brimming with viruses to watch them swirl towards his finger.

#bionicle #krika #pohatu #random writing #orpiment au #pohatu is slowly losing his mind #hes experiencing mood swings potent enough to knock a man flat to the ground #is it the millenia of manipulation taking their toll? being explicitly told the most important person in his life thinks hes disposable? #the struggle between the bastardized version of his sibs he fuels his anger with vs the reality of them being loving if imperfect people? #a defense mechanism against the doubts creeping in his mind after being exposed to ppl who are not teridax and who also care abt him? #who knows! but he is having the worst time of his life #as am i (<- exaggerating) (stuck in a funk) #anyways if yall could FUCKIN tell me what you think of these i would deeply appreciate it

[starry-blue-echoes]

I've been playing Cult of the Lamb recently and it reminded me of your Cult of the Diamond Au. How would Jotaro or Joesph fit in? I mean, they're basically Josuke's father figures here (despite the fact that Jotaro is technically his nephew and Joesph isn't exactly... all there). Maybe Iolite for Joesph, and just Platinum for Jotaro? or maybe Opal? Opal is usually representative of the ocean and water, fitting for the Ocean Man himself.

Or how about Reimi? Rose Quartz? I can see her as the one who watches over the hall of fallen soldiers. Would Aya be roped in at some point? She could be a Morganite or Coral, if she doesn't get killed that is. Speaking of killings, what about Kira? Are they going to give him a deific name too? Maybe to draw him out of hiding or force others to be on the lookout?

If he does get one, maybe Moissanite or Cubic Zirconia, both of which are used as artificial Diamonds, and could be sold as the Real Evil in this Cult instead of the Sapphire. Or perhaps a Ruby? Rubies represent fire and heat, great for explosions. There are also plenty of gemstones that are deadly too, like Asbestos. Yeah, I was shocked too when I found out it was a crystal. there's also Cinnabar, Chalcanthite, and Orpiment as well.

Yeah, I know Josuke says that The Sapphire is only the Opposite of the Diamond, but people will still see things in black and white. And if the Diamond is sold as good and the Sapphire is the opposite, then what's the opposite of good? Some people are still going to see the Sapphire as evil so if we have something to call truly call evil then the blame will be shifted from Okuyasu to Kira.

I also have an idea for a Cult-like au for Stardust Crusaders. Do Cults not go on Crusades to convert more followers?

TGDVJDVMDVD YOU KNOW I STARTED THIS UNDER THE IMPRESSION THIS WAS POST PART 4 BUT THIS BEING DURING IS SO MUCH FUNNIER-

like. slowly for years Josuke has (albeit accidentally) been creating this cult. He keeps his identity a secret because of how young he was to play on the safer side and every few weeks he puts on his disguise with Crazy D and makes his rounds around the hospital. Little does he know he's slowly amassed a rather large following that are really dedicated to him and what he does

I'd imagine it's only when Jotaro enters the picture that Josuke actually begins the realize just how much social/religious power he's amassed and is very happy he's kept his identity as The Great Diamond secret. Don't get him wrong, he does like the attention, but he's also pretty confident this wouldn't go over super well with his mom and would attract WAY more attention than he initially intended to get. Plus, he likes being able to have Just A Regular Highschool Social Life thank you very much

he does need to be careful around other Stand Users. Luckily most of them are onboard with it since Josuke isn't taking advantage of these people or asking them anything in return, and the ones that aren't are usually able to be intimidated into silence if need be. And if they don't...... yeah they're not going to get a lot of people to believe him, Josuke's had YEARS of helping the Morioh people, and they're going to stick by him

also, I had a sort of idea? Like, to keep identities hidden and lives separate, Josuke uses Crazy Diamond to make not quite costumes, but semi elaborate outfits using some items and rearranging everything in a way that it looks physically impossible to create with normal means. All it took was some old clothes, metal plates, plastics and some other miscellaneous things and bam he had a full outfit reminiscent of that of his Stand that was both impossible to remove without Crazy D's power and completely hid his identity

(also, I forgot to mention this, but I'm working off the idea that Josuke and the other Stand Users involved are all being seen as "vessels" for their respective assigned god. Did they plan ahead for when they eventually died and their Stands disappeared? no, not at all, they genuinely didn't realize how far things had gotten)

I love the idea of Jotaro becoming The Opal. He would definitely become a protective, somewhat guiding figure. The Opal is known for his strength, his speed, his cunning. He is the unstoppable force whose protective reach knows no bounds, who will reign down untold fury like a tsunami if any of his fellow Gemstones are harmed. He is someone who is to be respected and not messed with, but there is no doubt he will always do what is in the best interest for others (the second Jotaro saw how devoted Josuke's following was he all but demanded to be present for at least a few of the "meetings" just to make sure Josuke wasn't in too deep and that he wasn't going to get hurt)

Joseph on the other hand is more of a distant protector, sort of a patron for the elderly. The Iolite is someone who is wise, albeit often vague and a bit confusing at times. They are experienced and have seen so much the world has to offer, and now they spend the rest of their days being allowed the weakness that comes with age

BIG YES WITH REIMI. The Rose Quartz is someone who watches over the deceased but also ensures their unfinished business is dealt with. She watches over than and serves as the bridge between the land of the living and the land of the dead, and is known as one who can pass on the messages and prayers of those alive to their loved ones. She's essentially a Goddess of Death, but a kind one who cares for all the souls who pass on

If Aya doesn't die, she's definitely one of the Stand Users who's more of a "minor" god. She'll pop in on occasion for an appearance or two every few months if available, but mostly sticks to her beautician work.

while I do think Kira might get turned into a sort of boogie man later down the line, I also think that Josuke would do whatever he could to keep them uninvolved. After all, they're just Normal People. They're not equipped to deal with a hidden serial killer, plus he doesn't want to risk revealing his identity if Kira connects the dots. The Ruby could be a good option, maybe becoming something of a "fallen god." The Ruby could be known for selfishness, cruelty and a general lack of care for others. Maybe something to do with "The Ruby had the power and ability to do good, but chose to harm others instead with the gifts he was given"

and ooooooooooo I really like the possible thing with Okuyasu. Maybe in the beginning when they first introduced The Sapphire it was all good but started being misunderstood, so all the main people involved had a big brainstorming session to try and figure things out. Eventually they landed on villainizing Kira (bastard deserved it honestly), and slightly shifting the word usage of how they described The Sapphire. Instead of just leaving it at "The Sapphire is the opposite of The Great Diamond" they made it more "The Great Diamond heals bad things and The Sapphire gets rid of the bad completely." This way it keeps them being opposites, but puts them in the much more positive light of Different Methods, Similar Outcome

as for the last bit, I'm going to be competently honest, I misread it and my first thought was "Josuke going on a crusade to Italy and accidentally fucking with the plot"

#oooooo this au is so wild and fun it's kinda funny it started off as a complete crack au #cult of the diamond #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #diamond is unbreakable #diamond is unbreakable spoilers #jjba part 4 #jjba josuke #josuke higashikata #crazy diamond #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo #jjba joseph #joseph joestar #jjba kira #kira yoshikage #jjba reimi #reimi sugimoto #jjba aya #aya tsuji #jjba okuyasu #okuyasu nijimura #sb answers #ravenwolf1132

[aurpiment]

hey what does your new url mean?

Orpiment is a bright yellow mineral historically used as a pigment but not as popular anymore because of the arsenic in it. Unfortunately the url was taken. But since the name orpiment comes from aurum, "gold" + pigmentum, I could spell it with au- instead

#mt #vren-diagram #asks

[marlindotzip]

vous pouvez me retrouver sous le pseudo Orpiment sur le site !

le site est down pour l’instant mais j’inclurais un lien plus tard yahou

je posterais peut être aussi mes pages ici au fur et à mesure je verrais sur le moment

#art tag #23hbd #23hbd 2019

[bostonsuperfle19]

La symbolique des couleurs

éâZo: La couleur bleue représente le sentiment de calme et de sagesse, et cette association est due à la couleur de l’eau et du ciel. Il faut dire que le bleu est non seulement la couleur de la paix, mais aussi celle de la puissance, comme la mer. bien que le bleu soit le contraire du rouge, les deux sont aussi populaires que l’autre. 

Paul: Pour commencer,  le bleu est vraiment une couleur variée, avec beaucoup d’usages. Sans parler de tous les pays qui l’utilisent dans ses drapeaux, le bleu est employé pour une large gamme de choses y compris les panneaux, la peinture, et les rideaux. Mais aussi la couleur bleue est plus profonde que celle du tapis. Parmi ses autres aspects, il y a la noblesse, la tranquilité, la tristesse, et selon moi le plus intéressant de tous, la divinité. 

Tessa: Le violet symbolise la royauté, le pouvoir, l’ambition, la sagesse, ainsi que la magie, parmi les autre choses. Les fleurs violettes sont considérées comme étant délicates. Les violets plus clairs symbolisent non seulement la féminité, mais aussi l’amour et la nostalgie. Les violets foncés représentent la tristesse, la frustation, et la mélancolie. Le violet souligne beaucoup des choses, y compris la créativité, l’humeur maussade, et l’arrogance.

Rebecca: La signification de la couleur argent n'a pas beaucoup changé dans l'histoire. La signification de cette couleur est similaire ou contraste dans différentes religions. Dans la Bible, l'argent signifie la vérité, mais dans la genèse, l'argent signifie la vieillesse ou la destruction. Cependant, il y a des définitions différentes à travers le monde. En Amérique du Nord, l'argent est masculin ou moderne. Vous pouvez voir ça dans la vie parce que les objets stéréotypés plus virils sont en argent. Mais dans d’autres pays, l’argent est une couleur féminine. En Amérique du Sud, l'argent est synonyme de richesse et se trouve généralement dans les bijoux. De plus, les Allemands pensent que le sens est «quelque chose de sophistiqué». Les différentes nuances de l'argent ont également des significations différentes. L’argent brillant symbolise l'ouverture aux nouvelles idées et l'argent sombre symbolise la peur ou un sentiment négatif.

Alexa -  Le bleu est l’une des couleurs les plus intéressantes, mais aussi complexes. Dans la littérature, on trouve souvent que cette couleur signifie non seulement la sagesse et la liberté, y compris la tristesse, ou encore la sensibilité. Cependant, il y a beaucoup de nuances différentes de bleu; Bien qu’il y ait certaines, comme le bleu électrique, qui symbolisent des choses heureuses, d’autres nuances qui sont plus foncées peuvent saper nos esprits.

Zoe: Selon la culture, la couleur jaune a beaucoup de symbolismes différents. Par exemple, malgré son symbolisme féminin en Egypte, en Chine c'est vu comme une couleur plus masculine. De plus, selon qu’on est en Angleterre ou en Grèce, la jaune peut symboliser soit la maladie, à cause de la jaunisse, soit la divinité, grâce au dieu grec du soleil qui portait des vêtements jaunes. 

Il y a aussi plein de nuances de la couleur jaune. Par exemple, il y a l’ocre jaune, qui est la plus ancienne nuance et plutôt foncée, y compris le jaune très vif, qui est trouvé dans le minéral qui s’appelle orpiment. 

Charlotte: Le violet est une couleur symbolisant plusieurs choses, pourtant, je crois que cette couleur symbolise soit le confort, soit l’intelligence. Le violet signifie la passion, y compris l’ambition. J’ai toujours cru que le violet symbolisait le mystère, la richesse, sauf la chance. Durant les rituels chrétiens, le violet signifie la richesse et le calme.

Rose: Parmi les autres couleurs, le rose est spécial parce qu'il est symbole de beaucoup de choses, y compris la séduction et l’innocence. Non seulement signifie-t-il cela, mais aussi il évoque les hommes et le virilité durant le Moyen Age et la Renaissance. Cependant les féministes croient que la société doit arrêter de faire toutes les choses comme des vêtements et des jeux pour les petites filles en rose tape-à-œil, sinon les filles penseront qu’elles n’ont pas des options pour s’exprimer. À part ça, bien que le rose clair représente la jeunesse, le rose vif encore signifie la force et la courage pour les femmes qui ont le cancer de sein. 

Sofia: Au fil de temps, la couleur jaune a évoqué souvent des emotions soit heureuses soit mauvaises. Parmi les autres, cette couleur est une des plus vieille couleurs utilisées dans l’histoire de l’art. En raison de son association avec le soleil, le jaune signifie souvent une couleur chaude. Pour cette raison, le jaune est devenu un symbole de bonheur ainsi que d’espoir. Au contraire, la couleur jaune a aussi representé la maladie, la jalousie, sans parler de la folie. En Europe, le jaune a eu une image negative parce que plusieurs facteurs comme la religion l’ont décrit comme un symbole de la déception. Pourtant, désormais le significance de la couleur jaune est changée grâce aux peintures de Van Gogh, y compris des modes de la société.

[randomwriteronline]

Pohatu looks at him. If he could cry, he would.

The specific words are lost, but he remembers they are spoken in a baffled tone, more desperate than bitter. He remembers he is, literally, between a rock and a hard place - three walls of rock to be specific, and with his only escape blocked by the Toa of Stone who cornered him to get answers out of him.

A silly idea, he would scoff - to go and ask for information to the one who hates to speak. But Pohatu is not stupid, he knows that, and he must have figured it was his best shot, and he was right.

He is good at singling out the weak links, after all.

He remembers his eyes. He remembers his questions growing more frantic. He remembers him growing angrier by the second.

He remembers how he yells in his face with one last furious sob.

He remembers how he runs off, faster than he can keep track of him.

That's the last he sees of him.

He remembers going back to Tahu. He remembers telling him. He remembers his brother groaning angrily, deciding to cut their losses. It's not like the Order will just leave one of them to die here, anyways. They'll get him. He remembers not being comforted by the thought. He remembers (recognizes only now that he's older and wiser, because back then he was too caught up in wondering what if it were me defecting instead of him? Would he still say that? Would I be just as expendable? to recognize his brother's feelings) Tahu not being comforted by it either.

He remembers answering to the rest of his only somewhat worried siblings that Pohatu found something to keep himself busy, that's all, and will simply join them later - a lie, another one in a long line.

He remembers asking himself briefly, anxiously, just before the long sleep could ensnare him, if Pohatu would be alright.

If he would find a way out of that death trap.

If they would ever see him again.

Then his head hurts worse than Karzhani and he squeezes his eyes harder with a suffering whimper, turning to his side, reaching out as best as he can to touch his temple - there is a dent there, he's sure of it, as large as a boulder, and his skull hurts so, so badly - only for a hand to still his palm.

"Hold on, hold on," says a voice that sounds like Jaller, even though that's idiotic because they lost their younger Toa siblings earlier, when they dove in the waters to escape the Rahkshi.

Some kind of heat presses against his wound: he hisses, but it hurts less than it already did. It's almost soothing.

When he opens his eyes he is laying on the ground. Noticeably, earth-ground. Not rock-ground, or protodermis ground. Lewa is holding his hand. Jaller is, indeed, right next to him, tending to the dent in his head, working to make the metal malleable enough to pull it back into shape. Kongu seems to be doing something similar to Onua, who is not conscious yet. Nuparu is trying to work on the cave more, raising the ceiling, widening the space, and Gali is telling him to rest because he looks exhausted. He insists he can do it. Hahli tells him to shut up and that she'll handle the rest. The sound of water being pulled into the air and pressurized enough to carve through the walls clues him on the fact that yes, he did hear something like waves earlier. There must be an opening onto the sea close by. Or a hidden passageway into deeper waters. Tahu's voice reaches him from impossibly far away. He is asking if he's alright. He hisses back some kind of affirmation.

Once the pain ebbs enough for him to be able to sit up without feeling like disassembling himself, Onua is almost awake too.

He can see the small pool from which his younger sister is drawing her element from here, although it's fairly dark. Once the stream is allowed to stop, the surface remains troubled.

Where is his sword? Ah - there.

A large splash.

Hewkii emerges from the pool with a grunting cry, beaching himself onto the wet ground hard; tightly secured in his arms Takanuva, maskless, breathes long and harsh through his mouth, sputtering as air fills his lungs once more.

His bruised wrists tremble as he holds onto his brother of Stone.

#bionicle #pohatu #kopaka #tahu #onua #lewa #gali #jaller #hahli #nuparu #kongu #hewkii #takanuva #random writing #orpiment au #jumping forward briefly - there will be two chapters tat explain how we get here later #this one wasnt planned btw. it physically walked out of my brain by itself and i had no say on that #anyways i am back to begging yall for fucking feedback

[randomwriteronline]

The sound of waves is the only thing keeping the silence from clamping its sharp jaws upon them, chewing them to bits. The water sloshing softly against the cave's small underwater opening continues its perpetual motion blissfully oblivious to the thoughts that weigh heavy on eleven minds.

The words of their previous conversation dangle in the air like knives held by rotting ropes.

Maybe, if none of them speak, everything will dissipate.

Maybe everything will go and just undo itself.

Maybe everything will be normal again.

Quiet.

"I can't," Hewkii croaks.

Takanuva's fingers keep ghosting over his pained wrists, expression vacant, breathing imperceptibly, almost shell-shocked; his ankles are similarly wounded. Jaller and Nuparu flank him, working to at least somewhat fix the dents in the once constricted joints to give their friend a little physical relief, but they're distracted.

"I can't," Hewkii repeats, and his face disappears in his hands. "I can't fight him."

"None of us want to," Onua's voice rumbles kindly.

Lewa is trying to wrap around all five of his remaining siblings simultaneously after having pulled Kongu in close in an attempt to stop himself from shaking too hard. The former captain of the Gukko Force has not complained about it.

"I can't," Hewkii insists: "I can't, I can't..."

"None of us want to," Gali assures him softly.

"He's my brother," the Toa of Stone sobs. One of Hahli's fins carefully lays on his back. "He leaped in to save Hafu from the Tahnok, and he helped us escape when we were sieged, and he promised he would make me feel better when I was sick from the Comets and defeated the Nui-Jaga with Takanuva, and he - he - I can't, I can't..."

"None of us want to." Tahu says.

"You don't understand," red eyes rise to meet theirs, shining with an almost liquid sheen: "I am his little brother. He looked me in the eyes and promised he would protect me with his life. I can't fight him. Even if I tried, even if I wanted to more than anything, even if I could manage to disown him, I could never fight him. I wouldn't manage to lay a finger on him. He's... He's still Pohatu. He's still Pohatu, so I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't..."

His voice quiets, quiets, quiets, until his heartbroken rambles are drowned by the calm waves as he trembles balled up on himself.

Takanuva continues to stare vacantly at the ground.

They both look so vulnerable, like this.

So lost.

"It's not him," Jaller says. His tone lacks confidence. He turns to Tahu: "It's not really him, isn't it? It's a mimic of sorts."

Tahu does not answer.

Gali picks up the words his closed up throat can't let out with a slow, mournful shake of her head: "Mimics cannot copy memories."

"Then he's mindcontrolled," Kongu's voice is muffled by the armor of his Air brother. His position isn't the most comfortable, but he does not move to face the other Toa. "Like us under the krana, or when Takadox eyestares and braincleanses catchpreys or foolallies. Makuta is evercrafty - I'd be nonesurprised if he could do that."

Lewa's hold on him tightens only a little. Talking eludes him, but his message is clear: He wasn't. He couldn't be. I know how it feels, how it looks in someone's mind, how it reflects in their bodies; I did not see that in him.

"He still has plenty of kraata," Hahli intervenes mildly, without conviction, "He could have..."

"His mask was unmarred," Onua cuts her off - although her voice was already trailing into silence again, already fully doubting her own hopeful hypothesis.

"Antidermis, then," Nuparu offers. He is still working on Takanuva's ankle, or at least trying to. Effectively, all he's done for the past few minutes is stare at it, at the deep bruises the stone constrictions have left to make sure he could not escape even if he'd come to before the tide did (which is what happened, as Hewkii recalled hearing the now eerily silent Toa of Light's screams for help before he even found the cave's entrance). "We saw with the Zamor spheres. He's gaseous. He could have slipped in at some point. Maybe after the first time you fought. Worked his way into his head slowly."

Silence.

"We did leave him." Tahu murmurs. His soft voice sounds so awfully loud in the quiet when he corrects himself: "I did leave him, when I thought we would have had no time to go after him."

Hewkii's sobs continue to melt in the waves.

Takanuva remains perfectly immoble.

It would make it so much easier if it wasn't Pohatu.

It would explain everything so well, so painlessly. It would make all of it a lie, a ploy, yet another unnecessarily cruel scheme Teridax has orchestrated in the nick of time, another plot to beat them down: replacing their brother, so comfortably warm, with a cold imperfect hateful replica.

It would let them hold out hope that the real Pohatu is out there, maybe dead, hopefully alive, and that he is struggling but resisting just like they are; and with that conviction they would be able to leave this hiding place and fight off his doppelganger.

It would make every single word he said a dastardly attempt at destroying their spirit. Falsehoods constructed to hurt with a semblance of truth that cannot be real.

It would make his anger less genuine, his devotion less agonizing, his bitterness less cancerous.

But it is Pohatu.

It always was.

They know it.

They know it.

They know it.

None of them want to fight him.

None of them want to hurt him.

Kopaka stands with great difficulty, rising slowly to his feet.

"I'll bring him back."

"Don't start this," Gali snaps angrier than she wants to be, pleading eyes churning like whirlpools dragging ships to the bottom of the sea: "Please, Mata Nui protect us, do not start this."

"I will."

"Don't," Lewa calls for him with a thin voice, the first thing he's managed to say in hours: "Don't go."

"It is my own fault any of this was allowed to happen. I will fix it."

"Your own fault?" Tahu speaks. Fire builds up in his throat as his volume rises: "Your own fault?"

"If I hadn't conveyed the situation so badly, he would be here now."

"Then it's his own fault for not letting you explain!" his Fire brother roars, jumping upright, armor glowing hot with anger, sizzling, steaming, singing the muscles beneath it.

His younger siblings pull themselves back.

His sister snarls his name in a warning tone.

His Air brother wraps tighter around Kongu.

Onua watches.

The Toa of Fire continues his rampage, stepping all the way up to Kopaka's mask until their chests almost touch, and the difference in temperature between their rapidly cooling and heating bodies almost causes strings of steam to erupt from them: "Or for not dying in the storm, or for deciding to remain with the Makuta, or for trusting them because they welcomed him, or for falling for whatever Teridax did to him because he was alone and vulnerable, or for figuring out something was amiss! Or maybe it's their fault for not doing the same!" and his hand points at the other three Mata before going back to his heartlight: "It's my fault for not telling any of them! It's our fault for deciding to keep this to ourselves! It's our fault, all six of us, for not being able to work as a team! Or maybe it's Helryx's fault for not telling everything to all of us herself, Hydraxon's fault for raising us as he did, the Order's fault for being so secretive, Artakha's fault for making us, Mata Nui's fault for needing us to be made in the first place! Maybe it's even the Great Beings' fault somehow!"

His Ice brother stares him down, brows furrowed, mouth scowling, and for a split second everybody is back on Mata Nui on those first days of their second life and they're going to bring out their swords and try to cleave each other in half.

But Tahu slightly deflates as he breathes hard and tilts his head to better meet the other's eyes when he averts them.

"It's either nobody's fault or everybody's fault," he says with a growl in his voice but no aggression: "There are too many steps that led to where we are now to pin the blame on only one person."

Kopaka does not reply.

He clenches his hand hard; then releases it.

"I won't hurt him."

"I know that. But he is going to hurt you, because he wants to. And you won't manage to defend yourself, because none of us can."

It's the truth.

They all know it's the truth.

Because despite everything that being is still Pohatu, and they love him more than he may hate them.

Even the waves are quiet now.

They're all at a stall.

Softly, very softly, it's Takanuva who breaks the silence.

"When the darkness was taking over me, and I was mad with anger," he says slowly, hands still ghosting over his bruises, "Kopaka stopped me - he spoke to me, forced me to calm down and return to my senses. And Lewa once confided that, when he was almost made delirious by the krana's voices, it was Kopaka who managed to soothe him and send them away."

He raises his shining eyes to his two older brothers.

Maskless and still painfully numbed as he is, he looks so tired.

So small, despite his height.

Jaller gently wraps a hand around his arm as if to steady him. It seems to work - at least a little, as Takanuva shuffles imperceptibly in his seat.

"And when... Against the Bohrok-kal, the Vahi..." he speaks quietly, gaze locked onto Tahu's: "I could see. Through Gali, I could see. They were all trying to reach out to you, but the only voice that stirred you was Kopaka's."

He hushes again.

There is no need to make his argument explicit: it's not hard to read through the lines he draws with an unsteady hand.

The Toa Mata of Fire sighs deeply, eyes closed before he looks to the ground in a grim kind of agreement; his siblings make no sound, but do the same.

The Toa Mahri remain as they are, curled on the ground like Matoran - eager to do something for them, to be of help, any help, but unable to provide it, just like Matoran. Their size, weapons, masks and elemental powers feel useless, pointless, their steadfast heroism vain as their determination crumbles beneath an indescribable fear.

They hate their paralysis. They hate it, and they want to break out of it, they need to break out of it.

But to do so is to stand before their brother who smiled at them so fondly like they were his whole world once, when they were small and so much weaker, and they know they cannot do that.

Takanuva inhales a shaky breath.

He feels like he has done nothing but being saved, even now.

His wrists and ankles flare up with pain as something deep and uncomfortable twists and turns in his chest, like a dozen leeches squirming within it.

Pohatu still loves him.

What Hewkii said... How he tried to bargain with Makuta to let him live... Pohatu still loves him.

Maybe he just had a moment of weakness. Maybe he was so shaken that Teridax managed to worm himself in his brain and convince him, and that's why he...

Maybe - maybe, if he can stop panicking, he can finall save someone.

Maybe he can finally, properly help.

His voice trembles a little: "I will come with you."

"No." Kopaka shuts him down immediately. "I cannot ask you to and I do not want you to."

His hand is almost soft as it sits for a moment on Takanuva's head, apologizing silently for his harsh tone; its gentle chill pulsing against the protodermis skull distracts the Toa of Light from his thoughts and insecurity and phantom pains for a while, barely a few seconds, but it's enough to make it all hurt a little less.

He knows he couldn't have helped him anyways.

Not while he's like this.

The Toa of Ice breathes.

He faces his siblings, solemn: "I will bring him back," he promises.

"Those are loaded words," Onua only says softly.

All eyes turn to him.

He does not move yet, for a short time: he times the length of his exhales and inhales, steadying his heartlight and mind before his own thoughts crush them both with their weight.

At last his green gaze rises until it locks onto Kopaka's blue irises.

"I need you to promise us something," he speaks slowly, carefully. "In place of your own vow."

The following silence awaits his request.

"Promise to bring yourself back."

No answer.

His Ice brother's momentary confusion clears in the blink of an eye; his shoulder freeze slightly, his jaw sets itself a little tighter.

Onua begins another sentence, but stops himself. His eyelids fall to allow him the respite of a tunnel's lack of light after a terrible day beneath the blinding sun, so that he may be able to construct himself properly before he falls apart.

"If millenia of hatred and bitterness have taken Pohatu so far from us that we cannot hope to reach him anymore," he finally continues, ever so slow, ever so careful, "We will have to accept as much, as painful as it may be to do so, and mourn him as loudly as we would any fallen sibling. But I do not think any of us could bear to lose two brothers at once."

No other Toa speaks.

The waves keep rocking quietly.

Hewkii has hushed in his sister's hold.

"I will do everything I can," Kopaka promises.

"That is not what I asked of you," Onua replies.

His eyes are so very soft.

So very tired.

"Promise you will come back," he begs him. "With or without Pohatu."

His brother stiffens.

Eighteen eyes stare at him.

Pleading him without words.

Thery can only survive so much grief.

His heartlight pulses as he struggles to breathe deeply.

He walks to Hewkii, kneels before him; it's not quite a hug what he gives him, but it's close enough, just as gentle, and not that cold.

Kopaka sinks into the waters as his armor shifts accordingly.

After he's gone, the waves return to their soft motion.

(the examples of Kopaka being weirdly good at calming troubled minds are taken from this post by @whiteheartlight, which periodically peeks through my memories like a whale through the waves and makes me look out the window thoughtfully)

#bionicle #hewkii #jaller #takanuva #hahli #kongu #tahu #gali #lewa #onua #kopaka #random writing #orpiment au #hello my beautiful children. time to suffer

[randomwriteronline]

Pohatu's dreams are messy.

Anybody's would be, if they had been alive and conscious for nearly one hundred thousand years without ever losing their memory.

In his nightmares he hears the howls of many Av-Matoran as the storm descends upon them far too fast for him to drag them away in in time, and he feels Hydraxon's hand yank him from the shoulder where it hurts most to set him back on his feet because training isn't done yet, it never is, not for a failure like him; he sees his siblings, and that's enough to make him squirm.

In his dreams, most often, he sees the Makuta.

He sees their laboratories, their viruses, their experiments - he used to run from one to the other all the timeto look at them work, because he had no duty nor destiny left to his name, and their tireless tinkering was so mesmerizing, and he was allowed to loiter around them so long as he did nothing except what he was told, which usually meant not touching anything.

But sometimes, sometimes they would let him help: they would let him fetch them components, or give his two widgets worth of an opinion, or they would explain to him the creation process to find the errors in their thinking.

In his dreams he conjures Rahi coming from the vats that would perplex even Mutran. You and horns, he would grumble - he used to grumble - what is it with you and horns?

Who knows what it is, with Pohatu and horns. He just likes them, or so it would seem.

He still remembers when the Vako were created. He likes the Vako: they are fast, and strong, and they have a big horn right in the middle of their heads. It's a shame they can't be tamed, really.

He still remembers it because it was a gift, in a sense. The Makuta that created them (who were they? He can't figure it out: their name, their mask, their appearance were washed away a long time ago, and all he remembers are the long claws, like those of all Makuta, capable of such terrible harm and yet so careful and precise) had called him to see the very first one, and had told him he'd been the inspiration for such a beast. The surprise had caused something warm and good and pleasant to spread through him, a sensation akin to a joyful, beautiful, prideful embarrassment.

He's forgotten a lot of Makuta with time. A lot of them have died, after all - maybe it's for the best, since the living ones have grown so cold towards him.

He doesn't even remember the Makuta who found him heaving loud sobs as he laid pitifully in a tunnel outside of Karda Nui and trying to bend his body to produce tears so that some of his shame could at least leave him. He remembers she'd been a female, because in his dreams her role is often filled by Gorast: he remembers her voice as she'd called him little Toa whilst towering above him in a way no other being ever had; he remembers her eyes going wide and her posture growing stiff as he'd introduce himself with a full title that sounded as hollow and useless as he appeared, spoken softly as he confessed to her his lack of worth: I am Toa Pohatu Mata and I have failed.

He remembers then her claws on his body - cradling him with a graceless clumsiness typical of someone who has never held anything too kindly (and this, too, is something she had in common with Gorast) that was still sweeter than the closest thing that could have been called a caress from Hydraxon's hand. He'd been so awed by the tentative tenderness he'd been offered despite his failure that he had barely registered their journey.

After that, it's a mess. He was so tired. He thinks he might have been laying somewhere, on his side, curled up pathetically, buzzing in and out of sleep. There were voices talking about him, of course, he knows: the whole Brotherhood must have congregated when their sister had dragged him to their door like that.

He remembers arguments on what to do with him, who should keep him, if he should be assigned to a group, to a team, to a fortress, if leaving him anywhere out in the vast terrible world where so many things could have so easily overwhelmed and killed him when he was so valuable to the survival of the Great Spirit would have been a good idea to begin with.

He remembers a voice saying something loudly, and silence. Then steps in his direction, and then...

Miserix looks strange in his dreams.

Miserix had asked him about his siblings, where they were. Pohatu had answered with the truth: I don't know. They abandoned me.

Miserix had thought over it, and decided that it was too dangerous to leave a Toa Mata - possibly the last of them - to fend for himself, alone in the universe; so, the Brotherhood of Makuta welcomed him.

Miserix was nice, despite it all.

It's a shame he didn't follow the Plan.

The Makuta had all been nice to him at first, despite it all.

He'd never been this small before. Hydraxon was tall enough, and his siblings were taller than him as well, but until then he'd been sorrounded by Matoran that barely reached his hip; now he had to twist his neck to look the beings around him in the eyes, and they had to hunch their back to look into his. And there was their awkwardness, too - they had no clue what to do with him, especially at first, when he was barely anything more than a sad sack of depressed rocks sitting in the corners of their labs.

They had little to talk with him about, little for him to keep busy with. But it was very nice, when they did acknowledge him, when they did allow him in their lairs, when they had him test the Rahi to see how they reacted.

They were polite, as he was to them, and he liked their company, and - it seemed - they did not mind his.

He is a fast learner: he knew what to do and what not to do in no time, and what to expect too. For example, you can laugh at Chirox and Mutran's spats but only very quietly, and you can touch anything in Antroz's lab so long as you do not lift any of it from where it sits; you need to steer clear of Tridax because he hates visitors, and if you absolutely have to go to Kojol or Gorast you need to send a message at least half a day earlier so neither will accidentally try to vivisect you for spooking them; neither Vamprah nor Krika will say a word to you but they will know if you leave anything a single centimeter out of place, and so will Icarax - though he will tell you as much, asking if you're looking for a fight, and if you're not careful he will land a punch; Bitil usually has at least one time clone at the ready to keep you out of his face at all times, Miserix is never in the mood for fooling around, and Spiriah is very, very fun to bother without suffering repercussions.

And Teridax...

Teridax is kind.

(Pohatu believes in few things strongly: he believes his siblings don't care for him, he believes he loves the Matoran more than himself, and he believes Teridax is kind.)

(He believes Teridax is kind, because Teridax speaks to him kindly: because Teridax always saw value in him and alway told him as much, always reassured him of his usefulness and worth even when he had no unity nor duty nor destiny; because Teridax was always kind.)

(Few beings are born truly, irrevocably, incontestably evil, and despite his reputation Teridax is not one of them. But it has always been in his nature to plan, to consider his options and scheme for contingencies, and a Toa as powerful as a Mata is always better as an assured ally than a distant acquaintance. He just hadn't realized how starved Pohatu had been for attention of that kind, how desperately he craved it: sooner than he could train himself to stop flinching by reflex upon seeing him so suddenly he had the Toa shyly, eagerly trotting after him, anxious to be helpful, to be useful, to be told that he was more than a waste of space, that he had a purpose and a meaning and a reason to be cared about. Teridax gave him everything he needed, everything - at the cost of everything else.)

In his dreams, memories of kindness are muddled. Certainly, he knows, all the Makuta must have been kind and gentle to him; certainly, he knows, they must have all treated him well. But in his dreams the Mask of Shadows is the only one that presses its forehead against his Kakama so very gently.

Teridax visits him often in his dreams when he's had a nightmare, or when he's too worried, as though sensing his distress.

He likes to dream of his laboratory, so safe and welcoming, of his kraata crawling in his hands curiously, of his claws so carefully shifting him in the right place.

Once he dreamed of being a kraata, curled on his father's lap.

It was one of the best dreams he's ever had.

It was so immediately, terribly obvious that Pohatu had a favorite among the Makuta. (So terribly obvious and terribly disquieting, as his dependency on Teridax grew.) Bitil sneers about it still - about the leash tight around that neck of Stone, about his brother being the only one who gets to have a pet. Pohatu never understood the joke he and the rest of the Brotherhood seem to share about him, and has grown to hate it. He has grown to hate -- no, that's a word reserved for his siblings; he has grown to resent the other Makuta.

It's not a stable feeling, it ebbs and flows, depends on the day; but they are not shy about their acquired distaste for him as they regard him distantly, coldly.

In turn, he is not shy about not appreciating their disgust either.

If they had not deserted him all of a sudden, if they had not found his company so bothersome, perhaps this wouldn't have happened.

(Pohatu is a frail thing, so easy to win, so easy to lose: Teridax knows this, and in his wisdom isolated him. So the only love he can gain, the only one that matters, is the one Teridax rewards his obedience with; and in his blind and deaf servitude he is ecstatic.)

Sometimes he dreams of Matoran.

It's much less common, as those can quickly become paralyzing night terrors in little to no time - though the Island of Mata Nui has been calming his fears so far, since it's much easier to beat back a Rahi than it is evading an energy storm.

He's started dreaming of Takua often, in truth.

It was a pleasant surprise, despite the Nui-Jaga and the momentary blindness. He was convinced he'd never see any of the Av-Matoran again, and here is Karda Nui's local troublemaker, all mismatched colors and no memories and still the same exact wanderlust putting his little feet to work trudging miles upon miles. At least the island is big and the Wahi well connected enough for him to go from one place to another without putting himself in too much danger.

It's a shame he doesn't remember him. Takua once asked him for kicking lessons and made a proper fool of himself at the first attempt, but it was good fun. They could have laughed about it again.

He might be the one thing he truly could have missed from Karda Nui. He's glad to see him enjoy himself.

Lewa has started dreaming of him too, he's confided in him, because Pohatu is easy to talk to and everybody confides in him. Gali as well, and Onua mentioned it in passing - even Tahu answered him positively when he asked. Kopaka says nothing if he can help it, of course, but the long sleep must have made him sloppy enough to cave in after only the slightest insistent pestering.

This sort of thing reeks of destiny.

It's not like Mata Nui hasn't had all the time to get on his nerves - for his siblings, for his chosen Toa, for the undeserved zealous idolatry he demands of the Matoran without ever looking at them.

He and the Turaga must have something in store for his little Light brother, he's certain. Something that will drag him to his death.

His muscles seize when he sees the Avohki bathe Jaller in light.

Ah... Of course.

Of course.

His nightmares become bright when Takanuva bursts to smithereens within them, torn apart by his own glow, screaming in fear.

He whispers for Teridax to help him as his heartlight flickers erratically, and when he shuts his eyes he breathes deeply, deeply, until what he sees is Takua and Jaller and Akhmou playing with the docile, gentle kraata on the floor of the Makuta's laboratory, as Teridax soothes the Toa in a kind embrace, like a parent soothes a child: see?, his voice rumbles so gently. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to worry about.

#bionicle #pohatu #makuta #brotherhood of makuta #teridax #takua #random writing #orpiment au #<-tag for the au where pohatu never entered the codrax and got taken in by the makuta and stewed in a lot of hatred for 100 thousand years #this is in a sense the backstory chapter to explain some stuff #might be incoherent or repetitive at times but in my defense 1) its late 2) talking abt dreams #please please please please tell me what u think of it i need it like a lifeline

[randomwriteronline]

"Pohatu - fancy seeing you here."

Nokama smiles a little more when the Toa turns to her. He sits slightly hunched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, powerful legs swinging idly in the emptiness that divides the rocky wall from a plummet into the ocean, completely unafraid; the unusual shape of his Kakama Nuva greets her wordlessly.

"I hope I did not bother you," she continues gently: "You seem so caught up in your thoughts, these days..."

A comfortable silence follows the pause she allows to hang.

For a moment a sense of dread creeps along her spine, around her arms, ensnaring her neck: Pohatu, whose voice rattles the mountains, stares at her eerily quiet with a terrifyingly blank gaze and a lack of emotion in his expression.

But he blinks, and his eyes widen, and he says: "What?" as he leans his head forward. "I'm sorry Turaga, I was not listening."

She exhales, amused, as the broken tension allows her shoulders to sag a little: "I only mentioned that you seem very distracted as of late - even during Vakama's tales."

"Ah," he replies with a slightly embarrassed laugh: "I guess my head likes to be in Lewa's domain far more than my feet do in Onua's."

Nokama laughs with him: "May I?" she asks.

He gestures to his side amiably, inviting her to sit with him: "Of course, of course."

It's surprising how little he's worried. Even her head starts to spin from vertigo when she dares to look down at the swirling waters, and she is the furthest thing from the infamous Po-Matoran hydrophobia; yet he sits there without the barest hint of concern despite knowing very well he would sink to the depths of the ocean horribly easily.

Pohatu looks again to the horizon.

He's unusually unreadable.

"I've spoken with the Mahi of Po-Koro, on one of my visits," she tells him - her Rau's abilities have already been unmasked by now, so it's less strange than it could be - "They've told me you quite love to pamper them, more than the Hapaka."

His laugh vibrates out of him, but she notices he does not smile as wide as the sound would imply when he simply shrugs: "I like horns."

They've told her that, too.

"What troubles you, Toa of Stone?"

He glances back at her: "Nothing."

"Yet your mind is so often elsewhere, and you almost don't look like yourself. I've come to know you, Pohatu - I wish to help, if I can."

Nokama's gentle worry makes him sigh deeply: "You're as good a teacher as Toa Lhikan thought, Turaga," he replies with a heavy tone. "Very attentive."

She looks to her feet: "Vhisola was proof otherwise," she mutters.

Pohatu tilts his head: "Then it just means you've gotten better."

The Turaga smiles: "You're always too kind."

He does not reply to that.

His fingers sink into the stone of the precipice to rip a chunk out of the cliff like it's nothing; he tosses the rock from palm to palm absentmindedly, neck craned back to look at the sky.

"I'm just thinking of Po-Metru."

Curiosity, then. "It's only natural," she soothes him: "Your siblings wonder about Metru Nui too. Gali has asked me about Ga-Metru and the Great Temple quite a lot in the past few days. I'm certain Onewa will not be too shy to answer your questions."

She watches him pull one knee up to lean his chin on it: "I don't have many, to be honest - not about the city."

"Really?"

A shrug: "Turaga Vakama is very good at descriptions."

"Ah... Yes, he is, isn't he."

The Toa does not smile back at her; he keeps looking further away into the endless sky, as if to pull on the rest of the ocean with his mind until the other side of the island appears on the horizon.

"What is it, then?" Nokama nudges him. "What doubts take hold of your focus?"

He does not answer immediately.

The rock falls back in his hand perfectly each time he juggles it.

He does so halfheartedly, distractedly - in the same way he sits at the Amaja circle and looks at her brother speak as though he could see right past him, through him.

"The Matoran come from there," he finally says.

She nods.

At last, his strange nearly impersonal gaze returns upon her mask.

"Do you know where we come from?"

It takes her a moment to understand who he speaks of: "You come from the canisters," she answers, because that is nothing if the truth. "You come from the sea."

"The sea bears life - the sea bore us," he says under his breath at that, as though he is repeating a memory. It sounds a lot like Gali.

She nods: "That is as much as we Turaga know."

"And nothing else?" he insists. His words don't hold any desperation, but there is something in them she can't explain with any other term. "Did we have anything before that?"

"No, nothing. Nothing that we know of."

"You were Matoran. You became Toa. Do you not remember us?"

"No - you were never in Metru Nui. We never could have met you there, not even as Matoran."

"It remains we must have been Matoran. Isn't that right?"

His tone is... It strikes her enough to make her stagger before she can offer a response.

He sounds like...

He sounds like them, in a way.

He sounds like he is testing her - to see if he can trigger a specific reaction from her.

His tone is somewhat methodical, scientific, like a researcher interrogating a subject to observe the effects of whatever he's administered them; it is that of calculated questions that one already knows the answer to. His mask is unreadable, incomprehensible - not for a blank anonimity but instead an overwhelming amount of minuscule tells and signs that muddle the waters of his emotions, obscuring them within their own cacophonic confusion.

If only she too knew the answer.

If only (she assumes) he had not forgotten it.

"I imagine as much," Nokama finally replies. "But you six are special, Pohatu."

"You were chosen by Mata Nui himself," he interrupts her. The kindness in his voice is nearly an afterthought, but he masks that fact well. "I would say you too are not necessarily as ordinary a bunch as any Gukko flock might be in Le-Wahi."

She chuckles despite the strange atmosphere: "Oh," and then she laughs, and she laughs some more, bent over herself to try and stifle the giggles that bubble in her chest, "Oh, be careful not to say that in front of Tamaru or Kongu, lest you want a very angry lecture on how the Gukko force is so very different from their wild siblings."

Pohatu's smile is lukewarm.

The Turaga recomposes herself quickly when she takes in his lack of amusement: "But you are different," she insists. "You are something more than what we were or could have hoped to be."

"That sort of thing doesn't spring out of the ocean from nowhere."

"That sort of thing is what legends and prophecies are made of. Your arrival was foretold in stars that cannot be rewritten; you came to aid us, delivered upon our shores by the elements themselves; you battled against the Great Spirit's most insidious, terrible enemies, and defeated them. You are special. And perhaps you had no need of a Toa Stone to become who you are."

The reply she gets is a silent stare.

The rock creaks from within the Toa's grip.

If she were looking at it she'd notice the liquid manner it behaves.

"It's a sad idea," he finally says, "To be born only to fight."

The Toa protect, for that is their duty; the Matoran create, for that is their destiny.

Her hand lays on his arm with a kind, humid pressure.

"I may very well be wrong," Nokama reassures him now. "I've told you, not even we Turaga know much."

"You know prophecies."

"Those can only get us so far. And they can't see the past."

"I wish they could," Pohatu says with a focused gaze.

His eyes are locked onto her own.

"I will pray the Great Spirit to bring you answers soon, Toa of Stone," she promises - because what else can she do? How else can she reply to the perfectly still stare that seems to pass through her, carving holes within her head with the precision of a sculptor? "So that you and your siblings will never have to feel as you do now again."

He does not move.

Then, at last, his head tilts with a tired, relieved smile.

"Thank you, Turaga," he tells her earnestly. "I hope so too."

Nokama grins back at him, so gentle, so sweet - so glad that the disquieting spell is over and the Toa is once again fully himself.

She raises herself from her seat with a bit of a struggle, helped upright by his powerful arm. Another burst of vertigo makes her sway for a moment as she catches sight of the long fall into the waters, head feeling light before she imperiously shakes the sensation out of it: there is nothing to fear, the cliff won't fall. Even Pohatu has gone back to swinging his legs in the nothingness with the carefree movements of a Matoran dangling from a jungle vine, and if he is not afraid then she has no reason to be either.

He does not move to follow her.

"I shall return to Ga-Koro now," she tells him: "Soon enough we'll have to carry the boats to Kini Nui, and I ought to make sure they're nearing completion."

"Call Taipu when you need to move them, if my brother is too busy listening to stories - I'm sure he'll be happy to help," he suggests.

Her smile confirms that his poison is mistaken for a lighthearted jab: "A good idea. I will ask Whenua to send him to us, if he is not busy enough already and wishes to lend us a hand. You should be off too, listening to stories like your siblings, should you not?"

Head thrown back and legs stiffened, the Toa whines like an annoyed child: "But Turaga," he exaggerates his whimpering drawl to kick a laugh out of her shoulders, "I don't wanna!"

"Neither do I want to go fetch Nixie out of her observatory for the eleventh time today, but duty call us all the same."

He huffs and pouts dejectedly as his body slumps on himself in a comical manner; his furrowed brow clears into a simple smile as Nokama hiccups chuckle after chuckle at his stellar performance.

"There's still a little while," he bargains with her.

"And will you be at Kini Nui on time?"

"Am I ever late?"

No, she can't argue with that. Her eyes shine with affection as she lays them on him again.

"Alright," she pretends to concede with a sigh, as though she were doing him a big favor. His grin amuses her to no end. "But make sure to be there."

He places a hand on his heartlight: "I will be."

"And try to focus, as best as you can."

"I will try my hardest. I just need to clear my head a little more, and then I'll be the most captive audience Turaga Vakama has ever had."

"I'm certain you will. I hope the sea brings you solace, Pohatu."

"Thank you, Turaga. Goodbye."

She does not see his cheerfulness drop in an instant as soon as her back tells him she will not turn to look at him again, smile flattening, eyelids drooping, eyes hardening. He watches her until she disappears from view with a face devoid of love and a sizzling in his heartlight that almost makes him feel sick; the stone in his hand squeezes through his fingers like putty, slithers between them, takes a slug-like shape as it coils around his digits squirming like a worm emerging from a fresh tomb into a summer downpour, before he lets it collects itself in his palm once more.

He crushes it gently and looks down only when he opens his palm again. It looks like a Kane-Ra bull. He tries again: this one is a Makika. A Fikou. A Dikapi. A Tunnel Stalker. A Husi. A Fusa.

A Turaga with their mask shattered.

Without a word he presses the rock with both hands to somewhat shape it back into a proper sphere, carefully, taking his time.

He kicks it as far into the ocean as he can. His eyes follow its trajectory until the distance turns it far too small for him to distinguish it against the flickering gleams of the waves in which it no doubt sinks. He continues to look at the calm waters, legs swinging idly much like branches in a light breeze.

The sea bears life, Gali said; the sea bore us.

Pohatu looks into the cradle of his siblings' rebirth thoughtlessly, quietly, hating it as much as he hates them for not swallowing them whole.

#bionicle #nokama #pohatu #random writing #orpiment au #(kisses head of orpiment pohatu) my beautiful boy who is so full of hatred and has decided to let it stew so he can make it explode harder #idk if this reads the way i want it to? but then again idk how i want it to read #i guess nokama interprets his strangeness as melancholy and/or ghosts of memories from his amnesia #whereas in reality pohatu has a completely different motive #i.e. 'i wish the prophecies could look into the past' - nokama interprets this as him wishing he could know his past #while what he means (and tries to convey by staring) is that they wouldnt ail the mata as heroes if they knew ''the truth'' #or ofc what he thinks is the truth (that they left the av matoran to die bc they were cowards). which is completely off the mark #audience pls tell me your interpretation of whats behind the convos and actions. thats your homework for the day. im jokin but itd be nice

[randomwriteronline]

"Toa Pohatu!"

He still winces when the hulking figure turns towards him and smiles.

Akhmou struggles to speak for a moment, very aware of how close he is to the armored feet that could effortlessly kick his chest into his lungs: "Thank you," he finally manages to say, trying and failing to meet his gaze. "For believing me."

Pohatu only grins wider, gentler, honest: "No need," he replies, "I know the truth."

He doesn't specify what the truth is, and this confirms to Akhmou that he really does know: that he never doubted for a moment that those kohlii balls were purposefully poisoned, that he didn't fall for his lie when he claimed he had no idea his wares were compromised. That when he said that he believed the Matoran would have had no reason to do ill upon his brothers, and smiled at him, and winked at him so quickly that nobody else could have seen his eyelid move, he knew perfectly well that he was protecting a traitor.

The fact does not ease him.

If anything, it scares him more.

He falters, stalls, fumbles with his own words; he glances left and right anxiously to check, constantly, if there is someone still walking through the Koro who could hear his question.

"There's a place I'd like to show you, actually," Pohatu tells him suddenly, head tilted and an easygoing, affable air about him.

Akhmou feels sick. What can he do? Say no? That's not even an option, likely. He just nods.

The arm that picks him up is kind and strong, and holds him close to a sun-warmed chest so that he does not risk falling. Something in the grip around him is genuinely comforting, safe, caring. When he looks up, the Toa's eyes meet his own with an offering of kindness.

He's jostled for a moment, hands adjusting to grasp him better: "It's a little further away from Po-Koro, so - hold on tight!"

And then there's wind howling against his mask and dunes passing him by as fast as a dream and clouds disappearing as he rushes under them and then for a moment there's a tall wall of rock, glistening from the dew condensing already before the night has even properly come; his feet are laid carefully on a hard surface, and he remains silent, speechless, before the sunset that coats the desert in orange and violet hues from between the confines of a jagged frame of stalactites and stalagmites. His legs give out briefly as he lets himself fall: a seat of stone gently catches him, molding itself beneath him just as softly as fabric would.

It's a beautiful view.

He hears the Toa sit beside him.

"Nice nook, isn't it?" he says sweetly.

Akhmou nods slowly.

Anxiety builds up in him again. He realizes they are alone; not only that, they are alone in a cave, in a stone cave, sorrounded by the Toa's element for him to simply shape to his own desire - for Mata Nui's sake, he is sitting on something Pohatu conjured from nothing. There is nowhere to run, not forward towards the desert nor backward towards the entrails of the island, no village nor outpost that could hear him scream. Would he even have the time to scream? The Kakama brought him here in a manner of seconds; if the Toa decides to wall him in for his misdeeds, there's a chance he won't even catch the light fading around him before he's left in the damp cold dark once more, like in the worst of his nightmares, where he can't breathe or move and only sinks, sinks, sinks, down into an endless abyss, with nobody to hear him, nobody to help him...

A warm hand grazes his shoulder: "What's wrong, little brother?"

"Why?" he squeaks with a broken voice as he jolts away from the contact. "Why did you cover me?"

Pohatu looks at him with an indescribable face - one that reeks of a total lack of anger, of animosity. One that screams of gentleness.

"I told you," he just repeats kindly: "I know the truth."

"And what is the truth?"

"That you did something wrong for the right cause."

Right cause?

What is the right cause?

Is his right cause the same as the Toa's?

The hand on his shoulder is grounding, comforting. Sweet.

Akhmou blinks, and a thought forms suddenly: it's dark.

Inside the cave, where they sit.

It's dark.

Very, very dark.

The tension leaves his body as he raises his baffled eyes to meet Pohatu's. The larger being smiles at him.

"But... You're a Toa." the Matoran babbles lamely.

"Of course I am."

"But the Toa... Shouldn't you... The Great Spirit...?"

"I do serve the Great Spirit, little brother," Pohatu replies so easily, so affably: "And so do you."

"Me?"

The baffled tone makes the Toa laugh a little, amused but not cruel: "Of course!" he says, "It's just not the right time to call him that yet."

Not the...? Akhmou thinks his head has started floating: "So," he blinks twice, thrice, feeling a little drunk, a little confused: "So the Makuta is - so he will be...?"

A hand rests on top of his mask to quell his confusing thoughts: "In time, in time. It's too early for that right now."

"But one day, he will...?"

"Of course. He's the Great Spirit's brother, after all."

"And... Is that why you Toa are here? To... Is he the one who...?"

Pohatu laughs a little harder. It echoes through the cave, but the sound is not intimidating, it's not frightening.

"Oh no, Akhmou, no," he giggles. Akhmou's name is soaked in an eternal fondness when he says it, and the Matoran feels his heartlight lift and shine warmer. "I'm the only one who's here to make sure everything goes how it should - by Artakha, I might as well be the only true Toa on this island. How I pity your fellow Matoran! All those tall tales to fill their heads with falsehoods, and now those five. No, my siblings are completely useless - they don't understand a single thing. They wouldn't even know themselves if they saw their own faces in a mirror."

The harshness in his tone bites into the air like the merciless jaws of a sand Tarakava. It's hard, and angry, and hateful.

But his eyes soften when he looks back upon the black Rau, even as he chastises its owner: "It's not your brothers and sisters you should turn against to help Makuta. It will only make them push you away, and I don't want that."

"You? Why?"

"Because when one is destined to become Turaga it's not quite nice of his brothers to treat him so badly."

The words - and the sly wink that accompanies them - make the poor Matoran sputter: "Turaga?" he coughs. "Me, that's my destiny? Makuta said so?"

"He did."

"But when - and how - and when did he tell you? How do you talk to him? Where is he? How does he-?"

"Easy, easy - I'm afraid these are secrets I can't tell," Pohatu slows him down with a croon. "But I've followed the Makuta diligently for nearly one hundred thousand years, and he has never lied to me. You just need to wait."

One hundred thousand... The awe overtakes Akhmou: "You're ancient," he says without thinking.

"Oof! Way to make me feel old and brittle!" the Toa jokes earnestly.

This feeling of complicity between them is so incomprehensible, dizzying, electrifying, that Akhmou laughs despite himself. It's a nervous sound, almost hysterical, hiccuping out of him as he sinks his head between his shoulders embarrassed about his gaffe, but the emotion behind it is honest and the grin Pohatu gives him in response is twinkling with pure tenderness and the Po-Matoran keeps laughing almost just to see it until his head starts hurting and a gentle hand rubs his nape as he groans a little.

The dying rays are slipping under the dunes, the sky turning colder and darker with each passing minute.

"And the other Toa - are they as old as you?" he dares to ask, genuinely curious.

Their mention dims Pohatu's sunny demeanor, but not by much: "Yes, we were all built at roughly the same time."

"And were you all given your duty back then?"

"We were."

"But then... How can it be that you are the only one fulfilling it?"

The Toa of Stone flicks his eyes away. His fingers tap rhythmically on the rocky ground, causing ripples to expand through the hard surface as though it were a liquid.

It's clear to see that it's not something easy, or immediate, or natural, for any being to be able to do. It's clear to see that it takes a lot of work and practice, just like learning to smooth marble into the faint transparency of fabric.

Such a casual show of power and control over one's domain is not something any of the other Toa could hope to replicate: they had no time in their impossibly long slumber to hone their skill to the point where they could morph their element into a pantomime of their siblings' own putting only such little thought in it.

His silence is pristine, uninterrupted, until he speaks again.

"Do you know who my siblings are?"

Akhmou could list their names, but he can tell the answer to the question is not that simple; so he waits, a little less comfortable.

Pohatu turns to him again.

The levity is gone from his face.

"They are liars, cowards and backstabbers," he spits out in a breath. There is something dark in his gaze while the words leave his mouth. "As soon as they decide the danger might be too great for them, they will leave you all to die."

The Po-Matoran feels all of his fluids freeze solid.

These are the Toa Mata?

Blind to their destiny, deaf to their duty?

Ready to flee in the Matoran's greatest moment of need?

Pohatu's tone drips with a kind of vitriol that Akhmou knows. It's the bitterness of a horrid injustice that has happened before, right before your eyes.

For him it was the damp, cold water, being abandoned to drown.

For the Toa it must have been... It must have been...

His head is cupped between gentle hands, smooth like those of a sanded down statue.

So very sweetly, so very gently, Pohatu leans down to touch the forehead of his mask to that of his little brother, with such immense reverence that it almost doesn't feel real.

"I will not let them do that," he murmurs. "I will not let them desert you again. They don't understand how immesurably precious your lives are, little brother, they never did and they never will, and I won't let them destroy you. Makuta can't allow that, and neither can I."

Akhmou hugs the Toa of Stone tight.

Pohatu hugs him back careful not to squeeze too hard, wrapping his arms around him in such a solid and heartbreakingly loving way.

The shadows grow longer upon them as they nestle into their dark embrace, into the burning embers that make up the moonless night's eyes against the clouded sky.

"I don't want to go back to Po-Koro tonight," Akhmou whispers.

Turaga Onewa's gaze supervising the village makes him feel unsafe all of a sudden.

"Of course, Akhmou," Pohatu murmurs gently, cradling his little brother in his lap to offer him as much comfort as he can, waiting awake until the Matoran stills in his limbs; only then does he lay upon his back in his dark nest of stone, hidden away from the burning sun that shall rise in the morning, and allows himself to sleep.

#bionicle #pohatu #akhmou #random writing #its the au where pohatu didnt go in the codrax and instead got found by the makuta and later manipulated by teridax #i cannot stress how honest pohatu is in this fic. he genuinely believes every single word he says #he is not trying to further manipulate akhmou he genuinely does care for him and the rest of the matoran so so so much #might do more of these and find a proper tag. i need one for the organic-d thing too tbh #anyways stop looking at the onewa fic and focus on the other ones i made i know that ones funny but id like Other Feedback on Other Things #orpiment au

[randomwriteronline]

"Pohatu!"

Huh.

Lewa sounds... Worried?

Something must have happened. Hopefully it wasn't a Makuta attack. It'd be weird if neither Krika nor Pohatu were there to fight with their siblings - although the Toa have no reason to believe their brother of Stone has any business with the Brotherhood beyond knocking their masks into the bog water with a roundhouse kick, so really there's nothing to worry about. If he mentions he met a Makuta they'll likely assume he simply came across one and was briefly busied with not being pummelled into protodermis hummus against the nearest tree.

He touches down bouncing once, twice, to slow his momentum before he comes too close to that coward's trap; his Le-brother lunges for him to wrap his arms tight around his neck in a nearly suffocating hug.

His own limbs encircle the other's back in a lukewarm embrace, half stunned, half puzzled.

Alright. Something has happened.

The question now is, frustratingly: what, exactly?

"Where have you been?" Onua, for once, is quicker than him and gets to ask first. He sounds almost... distraught.

Pohatu turns to him with the unpleasant feeling of being in the dark about something squirming familiarly around his heartlight: "Swamp?" he replies a little dumbly pointing behind himself. "There aren't that many places to be down here, I met a big bugger-"

"All these years?" Gali continues. She is not talking about the swamp. She is worried, heartbreakingly worried, just as much as her brothers. "What happened to you? Where were you?"

Kopaka says nothing, but he looks at him. His eyes seem guilty.

Pohatu looks back at him in earnest confusion.

"The Codrex," Tahu visibly struggles as he searches for the correct string of words in his choked up throat for a moment, torn between reaching out with his hand and holding back.

The fog clears instantly.

"You weren't in the Codrex," he tries. "You weren't with--"

Pohatu shoves Lewa off of himself with a stiff thoughtless movement: "Ah," he says. "Good."

The other five blank.

Something shifts in the world around them and tilts it all askew, paints the air with a strange imperceptible color that makes their heads light, their footing unstable, their eyes unfocused. Their Stone brother is the same - his silhouette has been changed by the adaptive armor but he looks the same, they recognize him, they know him, right? He is still their sibling, he is still the same, the exact same, in his usual body with his usual gaze and his usual voice, but then why - why does this Toa look nothing like him?

Tahu flinches when his shoulder is grasped.

"Do you remember the energy storm?" Pohatu asks, sounding the exact same and yet completely, impossibly, horribly different.

"What?"

"Do you remember the energy storm?"

"Pohatu, I - you - where, how did you-?"

"The energy storm, do you remember it?"

"You weren't with us, all this time- how did you get to-"

"ANSWER THE QUESTION!"

They recoil.

Pohatu doesn't shout like that. Pohatu doesn't speak like that, quick and far too straight to the point. Pohatu doesn't grind his fingers that hard into what little of a shoulder a piece of armor might expose. Pohatu doesn't stare that harshly. Pohatu isn't that furious.

"The energy storm!" he insists, snarling - Pohatu doesn't snarl - "Do you remember that!"

"Yes," Tahu spits out.

"Good!" and his tendons hurts when they are released.

Pohatu doesn't stand like that. Pohatu doesn't look at his siblings like that - with a growling scowl so sour it almost makes their stomachs twist. Pohatu doesn't look like Takanuva does since a shadow leech bit him, he doesn't look like the Shadow Matoran, he just looks like himself; but Pohatu doesn't act like that.

He gives them all a quick glance, looking for confirmation on their faces beyond the stunned concern. The storm's mention and his cold eyes seem to do the trick as he catches small affirmations.

"Call it a feeling or a hunch or what you will, but something tells me there's going be another one coming down soon," he tells them with that voice that is his own yet doesn't sound like him - to them, at least, because they had yet to hear this facet of it which he's allowed to stew silently with the rest of his bitter fury. "And it'll turn Karda Nui into a nice big open air common grave, if you five keep sitting around this chunk of metal waiting for our little siblings to get fried out of the air like Nui-Rama."

The information takes a moment to sink in.

He watches their eyes widen, understanding dawning within them. They know now as they knew then what an energy storm is, what it means, the destruction it brings.

They begin speaking, they ask him how he knows - he answers harshly, flippantly, relishing in how they wince back as if stung or bitten each time he responds to their kind tones with hisses and growls that are so deeply wrong to their audio receptors - they start planning, and he retains no information whatsoever of whatever Tahu starts prattling about (a strategy, of course, because he is the leader, and a leader makes strategies and plans escapes and runs away when the ship begins sinking) because he sees his foot shift, he sees his hand beckon the rest of them towards him, he sees him make his way toward the inside of the Codrex, and white hot rage bursts out of him in a shout that he can't hear himself.

He can only tell he's shouted because his body is tense as it leanse forward, his lungs are empty, and his disgustingly spineless siblings are shaken and terrified as they turn to him.

He's not letting them escape on their own this time.

"None of you will be doing anything until we get the Matoran out of here!" he roars again. "Especially getting into that thing!"

"It could hold answers - helpful tools," Onua speaks in his warm enveloping tone. A hand reaches out for him, to soothe him, to try and calm him, return him to his normal self--

He's swatted away sharply, so hard that his wrist hurts.

His brother glares venomously: "It doesn't," he decides snapping back at him, "You're just trying to escape again, aren't you?"

"Again?"

"Don't play dumb with me! You said you remembered!"

"But it wasn't--"

"We're doing it my way this time! And you'll better comply or upon the name of the Great Spirit I swear I'll crack that infernal machine open like a Pokawi egg if you try to set a single foot in it!"

"Pohatu!"

He has no idea who is speaking: the voices and masks and colors melt together, his head spins, the heat of his anger turns his thoughts into a tangled mess that starts wrapping tight around his lungs to squeeze every breath of air out of him; so he flies away, diving briefly into the swamp, terribly close to the water, before rising back up along one of the trees, towards the stalactites.

(Somewhere far away a chunk of stalagmite blows up, scaring the wits out of Bitil. As his heartlight flashes madly the Makuta curses the Toa of Stone under his breath.)

Someone calls for him.

He ignores them and continues flying.

He's so furious that he nearly crashes through the branches.

A sense of nausea builds up in his throat like vomit.

The voice reaches him, shouting his name almost right in his audio receptor: his arm is grasped, wrenched up, his body unbalanced and turned upside down. He twists in the air aimlessly for a few seconds before he manages to stabilize himself again and regain his bearings enough to search for whoever jumped him.

Gali floats slightly above him, her eyes disbelieving and hard behind her mask: "What is happening?" she demands to know.

Pohatu glares at her. Then, out of nowhere, his brows unfurrow, his face softens, he breaks into his easygoing smile: "Nothing," he blatantly lies with his playful tone and no intention of masking his rage nor his sarcasm behind it, "Nothing ever happens. Didn't you know that, sister? This afternoon we're going to have a tea party with the Makuta and wait for the energy storm to decide the air is a bit too brisk to come down this week, and then tomorrow we'll all attend a nice Kohlii match the Av-Matoran are setting up with the Piraka as the referees."

"Stop it!" she shouts. His little show unsettles her immensely, and the fact only makes him glad. "What's happening to you?"

He laughs: "Nothing, I told you," and he does a little loop to keep from shattering a fallen stalactite in half, "Nothing ever happens to me! Why would anything happen to me?"

It scares her even more. "I said stop it! You're not like this!"

Oh, he isn't?

He isn't like this?

If she knew. If only she knew.

She would hate him as much as he hates her again.

"What's wrong with you, brother?" she cries. She really does sound like she's going to sob. "What happened to you? What is making you act like this?"

Oh, but didn't she say she remembered?

Didn't they say they remembered?

Liars. Liars. Liars. The bile surges back to cover his eyes, to coat his mouth with its horrid taste. He can barely breathe.

"Nothing!"

"It can't be 'nothing'!"

"I said, it's nothing!"

"Pohatu, please!"

He thinks of driving his hand right through her heartlight.

Gali watches her brother stutter, suddenly frightened by something she cannot see nor hear not imagine, she watches him lose height for only a moment in which he seems to plummet into the bog below: before she can fly down to his rescue he spins up again, twirling away from her. She follows his trajectory until he lands, heavy and tired, on a sturdy enough branch.

He hears her touch down a few steps away from him much more gracefully. Keeping his eyes shut at least spares him from having to look at her.

He is a Toa. He has a code to follow. Even when it's hard.

Even when it would make it all so much simpler.

Even when it would be so deserved.

But he is a Toa.

Not a Bohrok.

Not a Rahkshi.

A Toa.

And he doesn't want to kill.

"Pohatu," she calls again, so gentle, so sweet. Her hand sits on his shoulder, pulls away slightly when he flinches at the contact, lays once more with an even lighter weight. "Brother, I'm begging you. Speak to me. Share what hurts you."

You know exactly what it is, sister.

All of you do, and you pretend otherwise.

You left me. You planned your escape and went through with it.

You left me to do the work of six Toa alone because you were too scared of dying like the Matoran you didn't care for.

It was your plan from the beginning, wasn't it? It must have been. Otherwise it makes no sense. I was never part of your escape either, was I now. Because I was never as good as any of you.

You left me. You left me, and you planned to leave me. You didn't tell me anything. You didn't care if I would have looked for you while I was dying. You didn't care if our little brothers would have called for you. You left us all to die and you planned for it. From the start.

You disgust me. You left me. You left me. You left me.

"I'm worried," he says, because that too is true.

Gali's arms embrace him kindly, pushing his head to lay on her shoulder. He'll let her believe the shiver that courses through him is out of a need for comfort instead of repulsion.

"We'll get them all to safety," she whispers. Her tone is soft, almost lulling him to sleep.

"When?" he asks. He feels so tired. "Is there even enough time?"

"There will be," his sister reassures him as her hand cradles his nape. "I promise they'll all be on their way to Metru Nui before the storm can start forming. We'll make sure of that. Me, our brothers, and you. United, it won't take long."

It wouldn't have taken long back then either, he thinks, but the bite in his thoughts is too weak to voice them. He is so tired. So exhausted from his anger. Gali is so comfortable. So kind.

It's a trick.

It's all a trick.

He has to remember that.

Anger helps him remember that.

His siblings hate him.

It's all a trick.

Just a trick.

The stuttering sound of a pair of rockets approching them has his sister turn slightly. Her grasp on him loosens, and he pries himself away from her hold despite some traitorous speck of his mind begging to be allowed to lean on her. It's a trick, he chastises it as he finally opens his eyes to see who's coming: just another dirty trick.

Lewa touches down almost next to them, jittery and anxious. He looks at Pohatu with a certain fear behind the goggles of his mask.

His brother replies to his frightened gaze with silence.

He and Gali speak - of what, Pohatu can't tell. He's so tired. When at last he forces himself to be mentally present to the conversation, it seems they have reached an agreement.

"I will reassure our brothers, then," she says. "We'll be there to help you before you know it."

"Heartthanks, Watersister," Lewa nods relieved.

They watch her disappear downwards again. So it seems they will be handling the first few evacuations on their own, and then the others will join them.

It's good to see they have a bigger sense of duty than they used to.

Or at least, that his rage scares them more than death.

Fingers grab him before he can lift off, in an unsteady grip: "Pohatu," his brother calls with a trembling voice.

When he turns to finally face him fully, Lewa looks at him no different than he did when he first arrived on the branch: frightened, concerned, jittering. He grasps his forearm with both hands, like he's afraid he'll slip away from him.

"We need to go," Pohatu tells him simply. He is so tired.

"You," his brother begins softly, but it takes him another moment to word his thoughts properly: "You... How... Are you?"

"Tired."

"Are there - offvoices, like the mindkraana, in--"

"I am just tired. Let's go."

He winces hard at the harsh words, but he holds onto him still: "Stonebrother - you were... You weren't with us. In..."

"I wasn't. Let's go."

"Wait - wait, please..."

He sighs. He feels so tired. So tired. Why is he so tired.

"If you weren't... If you..." Lewa struggles. He is deeply worried. For him. "Where... What... Happened, to you? During all this time?"

His legs ache and twitch to kick him off this blasted branch. His body screams at him to knee the Air Toa in the torso hard enough to cave his armor into his lungs.

But the building bitterness hemorrhaging from his every joint after he allowed his tightly compressed rage to blow out of him is eroding his strength the more poisonous it becomes instead of fueling him as it has so diligently done for the past one hundred thousand years, and he is so tired.

"Now isn't the time to talk about this," he snaps.

"But it will be?" his brother insists.

He is so, so, so tired.

"Later." he concedes. "Once all this is done."

"Heartpromise?"

Somehow, he manages to fake a convincing smile: "Heartpromise."

Lewa smiles back at him, heartlight a little lighter.

They lift off together.

#bionicle #pohatu #gali #lewa #onua #tahu #kopaka #random writing #orpiment au #(dancing a merry little dance) pohatu is FUCKING PISSED #i hope the progression of his anger and its intensity through the chapters feels natural #and i hope it comes across that the way he handles it (keeping it hidden and then releasing it explosively) is so strong and unhealthy #that it actively physically makes him sick. which is why he is so tired by the end #in all of this the nuva have no idea what is happening to their brother and are honestly afraid for him #theres so many ways to get mind controlled in the matoran universe - whos to say somebody took hold of pohatu and turned him against them? #they want to help him so very earnestly and hes so stuck in the narrative hes spun where they hate him and he hates them #i am beating the shit out of all of them with hammers

[randomwriteronline]

"Pohatu!"

Dume blinks four times before he recognizes the voice.

That is Nokama.

She is not in front of him, because that is most certainly Vakama, and she is not by his side, because that sounds like Whenua, or maybe Matau, or maybe both. She might be behind him, but from where he is it's hard to tell exactly.

Where he is happens to be the floor of the colosseum prisons.

Which is not where he was roughly five seconds ago.

As a matter of fact, he was very, very far from the colosseum in its entirety, five seconds ago.

His body hurts.

"Pohatu!" Nokama again. "What are you doing?"

Dume turns with his head feeling as though he was underwater.

Toa Pohatu, guard of Mata Nui, pats a slab made of what looks like stone bricks that ensnares the bars of their prison in the way a child labors on their sandcastle, answers nonchalantly: "Walling you in," and starts molding another chunk of rock.

Ah.

Ah...

He had mentioned they'd gone all that way for nothing, in the end.

But the Turaga imagined - well.

They thought that he had simply spotted a threat.

Not that he was the threat.

The light in their cramped cell dims as yet another portion of the door is covered up.

Voices arise all around him begging for answers, demanding explanations, banging on the walls, shrieking, murmuring, pleading, bargaining, and the cacophony makes his already aching temples throb harder as his brain attempts to make sense of each line of dialogue all at once. A hand helps him upright, sustaining his arm to pull him to his feet - from the quiet that accompanies its aid, he deduces it should be Nuju. He squeezes his eyes shut to make the migraine leave quicker. It's unclear whether it helps or not.

The yelling is met by no answer.

Another part of the door is bricked close.

Vakama's voice rises above the rest, sounding shattered despite the words still being too much for Dume to process.

What he does hear clearly is the answer that arrives at last, cutting the younger Turaga off, so loud and sudden that it immediately hushes the other five beings.

"Yes, yes, Turaga," Pohatu says in a distracted tone, still not giving any of them an ounce of his care, too busy walling them in their cell, "You've all been very nice to me - like you've been nice to the Matoran when you disrupted the Plan and endangered them, or to Akhmou when you left him to drown, or to Jaller when you agreed to let him walk into his death twice, or to Takua when you made him believe he had to be the Toa of Light, or to Matoro when you convinced him he was expendable."

The grip on Dume's arm tightens.

When he opens his eyes, the Turaga of Metru Nui notices that his brother is still and livid, about to start shaking.

"Who's put those fakethoughts into you?" Matau caws, apalled.

"It's a bit late to start lying again, isn't it?" the Toa replies. He shoves a brick in place too forcefully, and it crashes onto the pavement making a small crater. He produces an annoyed click, grumbling to himself: "Could've at least hit one of you..."

"Excuse you!"

"WHAT!" he snaps.

The aggressive edge in his tone makes most of them stumble back.

Whenua observes him carefully as he pulls his sister away: "You're not yourself," he murmurs.

"I am perfectly calm." Pohatu's teeth grind when he says that. "You are the ones trying to get on my nerves."

"That's not what I said, and you know that."

"See? You're doing it again." another brick crumbles in his hand as he clenches it. He hisses a curse. "Ah - exactly what I meant. You really are a lot of Stone Rats, aren't you. A perfect match for my siblings. Thank the Great Spirit I won't have to see either of you ever again."

"Where are they?" Vakama demands to know. He almost shakes.

He recoils when Pohatu slams his Kakama against the bars and hisses softly: "Rotting."

"That's enough!"

Dume can hear an unusual edge in Onewa's voice as he trudges up to the door angrier than he's ever looked like - which is impressive, considering his temper is not mild to begin with.

But there's something else, the same thing that made Nuju tighten his grasp on his arm, that made Whenua and Nokama curl closer together, that caused Vakama to falter briefly when he heard of his Toa's fate; and whatever it is shakes Onewa's voice imperceptibly and the finger he points at the traitorous Mata tremble from the strain, and the old Turaga cannot for the love of himself understand it.

"You'll quit this, Pohatu!" the Turaga of Po-Koro demands imperiously. His tone is the one with which someone desperately reprimands a child who's done something very, very bad, whether knowingly or not. "And get us out of here this instant!"

Pohatu strares at him with a gleaming gaze, like he is going to drive a spear through him, like a Kane-Ra about to charge.

Then his eyes change, his face distends in a vacuous smile.

"Hm," he hums as he lays his arms on the unfinished wall of rock to lay his chin upon them: "No, I don't think I'll do that."

"Pohatu--!"

"Not on my own accord, that's for sure. You'd have to make me. Maybe brainwash me to. You'd manage if you had a Komau, maybe. That could work. You should try that. Mind-controlling me, I mean. It's a possibility. If you had a working Komau. It should be very easy. You could make an attempt. Of course - if you has a mask to use."

Toa Onewa would have tried to punch his mask into his skull.

Turaga Onewa observes him for a long time.

Pohatu observes him back.

His smile is still unreadable; his silence eggs him on.

The first thing that strikes Onewa is a strong, horrid smell, similar in every way to that of a room that has been closed for too long - yet its roof has decayed with time, and the humidity has soaked so far into its structure that mold and rot are as integral a part of the whole as its foundations might be.

The second is the claustrophobia that sinks its claws into his chest.

The third is the dark.

He turns around, but can barely see anything in the overwhelming shadows. His feet hit what feels like a small number of objects that clatter away, his hands meet an obstacle, a wall: as they slide on it searching for something, anything, they find furious scratches of beasts confined in cages too small and hastily repaired holes that seem to have been punched in, some more recent than others.

Something burns his wrist.

From a crack, glowing very faintly, oozes poison.

His eyes slowly acclimate to its sickly gleam just in time to notice it is all around him.

The walls weep with it, the floor is bathed in it. It sinks and deforms all that it touches as it corrodes it slowly, dripping in unsteady streams like blood from badly stitched wounds with hushed hisses.

Everywhere around the pavement - most of them melted halfways, wading through the expanding toxic lake or sinking morosely in torbid puddles - are hundreds of figurines, small, broken, made of stone, of all heights and builds, rendered undistinguishable as the acid defaced them over time, showing signs of uncountable loving attempts at fixing them despite their uselessness in a place so drenched in corrosive matter.

About half a dozen are lodged into the wall precariously as though thrown into it with great force. In the pools of poison terraformed by the streams sputtering from their points of impact, six other figures are drowning.

One looks to have been placed, fondly, at the bottom of a depression.

The room breathes. It's a faint, heaving sound, like a machine struggling to function underwater.

The rotting tumors all over it pulse disgustingly.

That is not breath.

Those are not rot.

There is something outside, pressing hard against the paper-thin walls and ceiling and floor: it curls and sloshes over the minuscule space like a predator awaiting its victim just outside of its den, tries to pierce through the deep marks left upon it in a thousand fits of rage and grief, growls terrifyingly as it increases, if only for a moment, the flow of the poison rivulets as they sputter harshly with a horribly heavy wet sound.

There is something inside, taking shape from the dark mold and moving patiently, methodically, with purpose: it is long claws, of a silver that bleeds into pitch black, sharp and cruel; they pierced their way in a long time ago so slowly that the rock has scarified around them, welcoming them and the growing decay they brought gladly, allowing to grow as large as they desired until their presence became the only thing that could hold the room together despite how easily they could tear it apart by simply curling too much.

There is nothing else.

Nothing else.

Nothing.

Else.

Onewa feels his siblings' hands rushing to sustain him before he feels his knees give in, his body fall to the floor. They speak to him as his heartlight flashes, but he can't hear or see anything: he is fixed, heaving, trembling, on the Toa smiling behind the bars.

Pohatu, blissfully ignorant of his own mangled mind, tilts his head and smiles.

"Didn't work, huh," he only says. Onewa could swear he hears the gurgle of the poison as it falls from his mouth, too much for him to contain. "What a shame."

The Turaga remain silent as he goes back to bricking them in.

They only stare, dumbfounded, minds emptied completely of words.

He looks back at them only for a moment; he holds the last block of stone in his hand almost thoughtfully, as though he was rethinking all of this. But it's only a second.

"You'd better stay put, now," are his last words to them, only his eyes visible as they cast a cold orange glow into the cell: "You're a crafty lot, I'd bet you'd find a way to escape somehow. And I can find you in a second, of course - but if you keep doing that, the Rahkshi will be bound to find you before I do one time, won't they?"

The brick slots into place with the sound of a coffin closing, and the cell goes dark.

#bionicle #pohatu #nokama #whenua #nuju #vakama #matau #onewa #turaga dume #random writing #orpiment au #and after torturing the youngsters here we now have Senior Citizen Bullying #plus a fun trip into pohatus absolutely horrid brain (reading fun as akin to entering an allegorical circle of hell) #this chapter fucking sucks to be completely honest but i didnt have the brain to make it any other way so fuck it. have it #next up. i have been So Good at keeping them separated in this fic for this long.

[randomwriteronline]

The sound of waves is soothing and irritating all at once. It almost drives him mad, and then it calms him down again. His heartlight pulses a little quicker than it should. A sense of anxiety gives his rocking motion a strange apprehension.

The sea bears life.

The sea bore us.

His sister's words make him feel sick in his chest.

"Pohatu..."

His head raises suddenly to the grey sky, smiling: "I'm here."

"Where are you siblings?" asks Teridax's voice with a windy whisper, slithering around him.

"Trapped underground."

"Very well," the Makuta's voice purrs; bashful pride swells in the Toa's chest. "Where is the Mask of Light?"

"With Akhmou, to be melted down in the forges."

"Very well," another rumble in the protodermis sea, another caress from the howling gale. "Where are the Turaga Metru?"

"If they haven't been caught already, on the way to me."

"Very, very well, my Toa." Pohatu grins, basking in the quiet praise - but his heartlight stills a moment later as the sky sighs: "And yet..."

Has he done something wrong?

Something bad?

He tried to do everything right, as right as he could.

Did he waste too much time?

Cold winds wrap around him; the ground beneath him seems to sink a little more under his weight, the air curls heavier around his limbs and head, and the entire universe seem to close in on him, to observe him more intently.

He's not scared by this.

He knows Teridax would never hurt him.

He's just trying to understand what he did wrong.

The sounds solidify in the shape of a well-known claw to trace the maskless face he cradles in his arms: "He is still here."

Pohatu looks down.

Takanuva remains unconscious.

"Pohatu..." Teridax asks sweetly, rumbling like a thunderstorm, "You do remember what I've told you... The Toa of Light..."

"But it wasn't his fault!" Pohatu interrupts him. His hold on his little brother tightens slightly. "You said it yourself, Takua has nothing to do with this. If it wasn't for the Turaga, for that mask - he's innocent."

"He is, of course," the Makuta growls, "But danger lurks within him."

The Toa curls around the much larger body in his lap: "But he hasn't done anything wrong," he continues to defend him. "And without the mask he can't do anything, he's just like a Matoran again, without any powers - so I thought... I thought..."

"You disobey me?"

"No! No, no, I'm not disobeying, I don't want to disobey!" he's quick to reassure his master. Nothing frightens him more than the quiet heartbreak in his tone - he's good, he's good, he wants to be good, he wants to be good and useful and someone to be proud of, he doesn't want to make him upset, he doesn't want to disappoint him, it's just... It's just... He looks down, to the closed golden eyes of Takanuva. His shoulders close around him tenderly, to shield him from the cruel world that saw it fit to throw him into such a terrible life. "But he's... He hasn't done anything... He thought - they made him believe he had to, that it was his destiny, it wasn't his fault... He's just Takua... He's just..."

"Your little brother," Teridax finishes for him.

Pohatu nods.

The waves recede until the seabed is almost visible; they crash once more against the cliff with a long, gentle sigh.

"You have much too big a heart, Pohatu," the Makuta tells him, willing the salt in the air to cradle his puppet's head as though it were his palm. "And though it is an admirable thing, it still sometimes blinds you from what must be done - especially when it is in your little brother's best interest."

The Toa looks up, into the sky, to the spectral light of the twin suns. He has no trouble imagining the deep crimson of Teridax's eyes in place of their thin silvery shine.

"He has been turned into my enemy against his will, that is true," the usurper continues, voice low and sweet: "And I cannot execute him for being guilty of a crime others forced him to commit without even knowing what he was truly doing. But he must die regardless, Pohatu - not because he must be brought to justice, like your siblings and their mentors, but because he deserves to be given mercy."

"Mercy?"

"Yes, my Toa, mercy... The very same thing the Turaga denied him. Reflect well: the Avohkii has mutated him, tearing his previous careless, happy existence from him, staining him with the irreversible mark of its blinding light. No matter how far he may run, Destiny will always hound him, chasing him into his demise."

Pohatu hugs his brother closer, as though Destiny was a beast standing right before them in this second, hissing and writhing as it eyes Takanuva with a hungry gaze.

Loving claws of frigid wind soothe his head, caressing it slowly: "Do you see, then?" the waters churn below him, "Death is not a punishment; it is a kindness. Free him from such a horrible fate. Put a gentle end to the life of strife and agony he has been sacrificed to."

This -

This is the only time Pohatu laments following the code.

He would. He would kill Takanuva, right here and now, in his own arms, while he's still unconscious - so he could die loved and safe, without even noticing, drifting into even softer, even deeper sleep.

He would do it for him, so he doesn't have to suffer, so he doesn't have to be torn apart by something else, something so much more terrible than a brother who honestly, honestly loves him, a brother who loves him enough to spare him from something as horrible as a life he should not be forced to live.

He would, he would, he wants to (Teridax is right - what a fool he was for doubting him, when Teridax is always right and always good, and he even talked back to him and argued with him - oh, a fool, a fool, an idiot, a cretin, a worthless mindless sack of rocks - he is so lucky Teridax is so patient with him even when he's this incredibly stupid, so lucky he still cares about him enough to call him dear), but he can't. He can't. He can't.

He rocks Takanuva slowly, for no good reason, and he thinks.

He thinks as hard as he can.

"There's a cave in Po-Metru," he mutters - half to himself, half to the universe, "By the docks - the Visorak horde opened it with a tunnel, but the rest of it caved in... It's under the sea, I remember, with an entrance that can only be found underwater... Getting there was a mess. But I remember the way, I could do it. And the adaptive armor would make it easier. With some luck, the high tide would catch up to him before he could wake up. He wouldn't feel a single thing."

The ground beneath him rumbles: "There," Teridax praises him, "How clever you are, when your mind is clear."

The fear and guilt and worry are washed away from him completely in the mere fraction of a second, like a bad dream chased off by a gentle embrace: Pohatu smiles, embarrassed and flattered.

"Although, just in case luck does not favor us - perhaps, a shackle or two... As he would not understand your act of mercy..."

Of course, of course: "I'll make sure he's secured, Great Spirit."

The grandiose title makes the cliff on which the Toa sits stand even taller as the Makuta preens himself. Great Spirit - yes, of course; that is his name, now, and this is his universe; and oh, it is with such reverence that Pohatu says it, such conviction, such blind all-consuming devotion...

His claws in the shape of the winds lift the Toa's chin up to the sky, his brilliant eyes so eager to make him proud: "Well done, Pohatu," Teridax croons; with another gust of gale he presses against the forehead of his mask to push it down again, in a show of obedience: "I knew you would not disappoint me."

Pohatu never disappoints him.

Pohatu craves to be loved too much to disappoint him.

"Now run along, my dear Toa of Stone. You have a brother to save, and six traitors to imprison."

Pohatu nods, brimming with purpose and quelled anxieties.

Then he disappears, an orange flash beneath grey skies.

The waves keep crashing against the small cliff.

Under it, Hewkii shakes, breathing too fast.

#bionicle #pohatu #makuta teridax #takanuva #hewkii #random writing #orpiment au #mercy killing tw #discussions of it #emotional manipulation tw #me while writing: hehe :) hehehe!!! ohohoho!! >:D yippie!!!! #me while re-reading: oh. oh no. oh fuckin- oh yikes #back to pohatu being nice for a change but also unfortunately we get to see the depths of the chokehold teridax has on him #and ill be fuckin real with ya i got uncomfortable at a point #he is. so desperate for his approval. and so consumed by said desperation. that he will completely change his view of a situation #if teridax presents it to him with the right words. and teridax ALWAYS know how to present it to him with the right words. #that last line wasnt planned but it was a great idea. putting him in the fucking blender. enjoy hell my lad

[randomwriteronline]

"Where are we going, brother?"

Pohatu doesn't answer. He keeps walking with his hand on the wall, quicker than all of them; every now and then he knocks gently on it.

There are no Rahkshi down here, no Exo-Toa or Rahi or anything. It's a tunnel that from the colosseum leads into some kind of pipe system different from the sprawling Archives, but equally as labyrinthine. Pohatu walks through it easily, knowing the general direction towards which they're going - that being, towards the Turaga, whom he sent on their own way to safety when Teridax's universe-wide attack unfolded before their powerless eyes. They'll take longer to show up where the Toa will meet them, but he knows they're a crafty lot: they'll have no trouble evading whatever might try to get them.

When asked how he's so familiar with this hidden piece of Metru Nui, he shrugged. He went for a long run all over the city on his first visit, he answered truthfully, and even when he did not add anything after the others were perfectly satisfied and did not insist with questions, because it's only natural for him to want to explore every nook and cranny of a place at maximum speed.

And because he is still on edge.

He hasn't blown up at them since they tried to ask him where he has been for one hundred thousand years, but he still flinches harshly to get their hands off of himself when they try to touch him, and he still looks at them angrily, and sometimes he still growls.

Takanuva hits his head on the ceiling and groans. His mask's silvery light stutters.

"Careful, little brother," Pohatu tells him with his normal, playful, gentle voice that lately he uses only for him, their younger siblings, and the Matoran: "That's the fifth time you try to break a hole through the tunnel."

"It's not like I'm trying," Takanuva mutters back.

"Maybe you should start shortening again?" the Toa of Stone jokes like he refuses to do with his siblings since meeting them at the Codrex. "Can't be too hard - try pulling your limbs real tight to your chest, for a start."

"And how would you suppose I'd walk, then?"

"You'll roll!"

The Av-Toa laughs a little.

He stops when the others don't join in, and his eyes ask them what makes them so uncomfortable. Gali shifts her shoulders.

Silence sits upon them like a vulture.

The color of the viaduct changes at last. Pohatu quickens his steps to build some distance between him and his siblings, awfully focused. He knocks once, then again: a high pitched hum leaves him as he stops dead in his tracks and faces the wall - his tone is indiscernible, incomprehensible, either flat or interested or something else entirely.

"What did you find, Pohatu?" Tahu asks loudly as the rest of them hurry closer.

His brother turns to him with an empty gaze and no answer.

The back of his head hurts.

And his spine, and his arms, and his legs, and his chest, and his hips, and every single minuscule atom of his entire body as it crashes against its brethren until he can barely breathe or think while the anguish lights his nerves like a wild fire raging through the forest on an impossibly dry day with a cruel hot wind that howls too strong.

The sound comes to his audio receptors later - a terrifying impact, as loud as an explosion. He turns his head, what was that? An ambush? Where did it come from? Where are his siblings?

He counts their masks in a dim light, blotches of color in his muddled vision: black, white, blue, green, red with him. He reaches for his Hau and finds his hand unable to move - is it broken? When he tries to look down his chin encounters resistance and he fails to recognize anything. Five out of seven. Five out of seven... His body hurts. Why does it hurt? Five out of seven...

A strangled grunt catches his attention.

Pohatu struggles hoisting Takanuva, who does not move, in his arms while also holding a small lightstone to see anything in this dark.

Frustrated, he lets the stone fall to the ground: "I've got you, little brother," he reassures his unconscious sibling as he plucks the Mask of Light from his face (why does he take the Mask of Light from his face?) and slips his arms around his torso, trying to lift him. "Oof - damn it all, you're so heavy now - see, that's another reason you shouldn't have been allowed to pick that cursed mask up, if you were still a Matoran this whole thing would be much easier..."

"Pohatu!" Lewa cries, panicked. "Pohatu! Are you alright?"

"Of course I am," their brother replies.

"We're trapped! Stuck!"

"I can see that."

Are they trapped? Are they -

His arms groan from the strain of being squeezed too tight and pain shoots into his eyes, burning his field of vision into scalding white. It relents slowly, leaving him winded, and as he collects himself he realizes: the opposite wall, the one Pohatu was inspecting, has lunged towards them and trapped them against its twin.

Ambush. An ambush. His body hurts. It was an ambush. His body hurts. It hurts so much he can't concentrate.

Onua chokes on what would be a shout for a few horrible seconds before heaving hard when the pressure finally eases up on him and spares him from being crushed.

What is doing this? A Rahkshi? Must be a Rahkshi. It must be.

His body hurts so much.

"Stone," he hears Kopaka breathe, "It's stone."

Stone. It's stone... So? A renegade Toa? A mutated kraata? Tahu strains to listen. No, there is no sound here: only his siblings hissing in pain as their frames are pressed and Pohatu grunting as he finally manages to secure at least the upper half of Takanuva on himself and off the ground.

Oh. Oh - oh, it's stone. It's stone! Oh, thank Mata Nui, it's stone.

Destiny decided they can be lucky for once.

"Pohatu!" he cries through gritted teeth while his chest is constricted tightly, "Pohatu - the walls, they're, it's stone - hurry, please, get it off of us!"

The answer he gets is flat, deadpan: "That'd be counterproductive."

"What?" Gali responds immediately, panic stirring around her heartlight like a whirpool - this feels too much like their confrontation, that strange feeling of wrong overwhelming in his neutral tone: "What do you mean? Pohatu-!"

Her voice cuts off with a painful whine as the rock clenches around her tight enough to make her armor creak around her limbs.

Pohatu ignores her.

They call for him multiple times. Over and over. As best as they can through the strain put on their bodies that almost drives them mad with anguish.

In the dim light their brother takes his time.

They watch him will a seat out of a portion of the wall, placing Takanuva down upon it; his masked forehead laid on his little brother's, the Avokhii in his hand (why is the Avokhii in his hand?) disappearing from sight as it is slipped away on his person, he murmurs something to the Toa of Light with a gentle tone, a comforting tone, while he holds his limp hand. His eyes extend none of that gentleness to his siblings when he turns to them.

"So!"

The wall presses hard against their bodies for a single second: pain lances through them like a downpour of spears and rips the voices out of the five of them in a swift cruel move.

Pohatu gingerly walks to stand upon their prison, twisting the lightstone in his hand, casting terrible almost tangible shadows all across the claustrophobic space as the light struggles to escape through the gaps in his fingers.

"If all goes well you'll be rotting here for, oh, roughly the rest of eternity, and I'll never have to see any of you again," he tells them almost casually as he towers over them, though there is a deep poison drooling out of his mouth. His blue visor gleams terribly, his eyes looking just as blue and cold and hard behind it: "So I guess it's as good a time as any for a little story."

He bends to look at them closer, just for a moment. In the dark, it's hard to tell his expression.

He rises again to stretch with a groan: the stone moves as malleable as fabric to meet him when he leans back, sitting himself down comfortably upon it, and he slumps forward to prop his chin in his palms as though he was looking at something so very curious.

The arrows of light from his hand carve deep lines into his mask.

"In the time before time Artakha made six Toa to protect the Great Spirit and the Av-Matoran, but that's the part that you know already," he continues as they can only stare at him, too stunned, too in pain: "You know it all up to the point where the five brave Toa go into their safe ball at the bottom of the swamp and take a nice long nap while everything around them gets destroyed. So the question is, whatever happened to the dirt one?"

His head shifts suddenly.

Tahu feels his eyes slowly digging holes into his own.

"By the way, I'm almost touched you remembered my element this time," Pohatu tells him. His voice is quiet, between a stage whisper and a real one. "Only took four to five near death experiences."

He wants to snap at him.

He wants to thrash and snarl and demand what is wrong with him.

He wants to open his mouth and speak to him.

He wants to ask him what is going on.

He wants to reach out and grab him and hold him still, and beg him to explain, and speak in a calm voice to him until everything is fixed.

He barely manages to breathe.

Pohatu holds his gaze a little longer. He blinks, and cranes his neck away from him with a sighed hum - it's so dark his expression can't be seen but the movement seems almost bored - and taps on the side of his mask with his fingers: the lightstone peeks from between them at strangled intervals.

He observes them struggle to adjust to the changes in lighting uselessly, as they are first offered bursts of brightness and then plunged back into darkness after mere seconds.

He is toying with them.

This is not Pohatu.

This cannot be Pohatu.

"I stayed in Karda Nui. I tried to evacuate the last Matoran before the energy storm swallowed them. I managed a few. I failed most of them. It was a job for six Toa, but I couldn't really hope five of them would materialize out of thin air just because they were needed."

He breaks into a short chuckle. It's a softer version of his usual booming laughter. It sputters poison all over them.

"And it's not like you would have made any difference if you'd stayed - you're barely even Toa to begin with."

This cannot be Pohatu.

This is not Pohatu.

This is a fake.

This has to be a fake.

When did they lose him? When could he have been replaced? They never lost sight of him in these tunnels, it must have been earlier. In the Colosseum? As they were returning to Metru Nui? Before escaping Karda Nui? Before he met them at the Codrex? He had mentioned it briefly, had said he had met a big bugger - a Makuta? A kraata? A shadow leech? Something else? Where is he now? Where is their brother? Where are they keeping him? Is he alive? Is he... He can't be, he can't! They can't have killed him! Unless they trapped him in Karda Nui... With the Makuta... And the storm... No, no, no, Pohatu is smart, Pohatu is quick, he can't have died there, he must have escaped. He must have escaped, and he must have made his way to Metru Nui, or maybe somewhere else safe, and he's looking for them, or planning a way to blow up Teridax while keeping the universe unharmed, or maybe he's been captured again and he's being hurt or tortured or killed and he's worried for them, maybe, maybe, maybe...

"And you'd planned to leave me to die anyways," he shrugs.

"No!" Lewa chokes out. He recoils, he shifts, he tries to twist in his prison, to break out, and treespeak spills out of him faster than he can give any of it sense.

Not like he is given much time to try to.

Halfway along his attempt at something (an appeal? An explanation? A curse? An apology?) a wail cuts him off together with a searing pain. What little light washes over him is enough to see how the rock ensnaring him wraps around his head to shut his mouth in a tight, tight, tight grip, his mask almost crushed within: the rest of his body, likely, is suffering something similar.

Pohatu waits patiently until his whimpering dies down - until he himself decides to relent the pressure a little.

"I thought you were interested in this story," he says as he tilts his head. His brother struggles to breathe through the stone binding his mouth as he gives him a desperate look: the Toa of Stone remains unbothered. "You even made me heartpromise to tell you," and his tone is sneering when he mentions the word, "So why are you interrupting me now? Am I boring you? Are you bored? Should I stop? I can stop. I have other things to do."

Lewa's inarticulate whines sound like sobs, but can't answer.

Pohatu stretches his legs: "Alright then! Saves me time."

"Wait," Onua rasps. He struggles to speak while his lungs are compressed, limiting how much air he's allowed to inhale. "Wait. Please. Where... How... How... The storm... You... Survived..."

"Evidently I did, if I'm here," his brother replies. "Even if you think it's a real shame I didn't get vaporized."

"Don't... We don'... Don'... Please... Please... Breathe... Can't... Please..."

No answer.

Breathing gets harder.

He can't see.

He can't see.

He can't see.

He's going to faint.

He's going to faint.

He's going to...

Going to...

Going...

To...

Finally the pressure leaves.

He gasps noisily, greedily, exhausted.

Pohatu watches him like he's a disgusting squirming krana, struggling to writhe to safety as it lays on marshy ground.

"But yes," he continues softly. "I am here because I did escape. When I couldn't hope to bring any more little siblings to safety, and I couldn't hear their screams over the crackling of the storm, I followed your example and ran away. Then the Makuta found me, and took pity on me - isn't that funny? The Makuta, taking pity on something? Something as weak and useless as me? - and they kept me in their brotherhood. And the were all so very nice to me, like you've been ever since you couldn't remember how you used to think of me, for a few hundred years or so, before they got bored of such a sad sack of gravel and left me to rot outside of their laboratories."

There are so many things wrong in what he says.

So many, all at once.

The faint light illuminates a smile beneath his mask - a small, honest, deeply fond smile: "Except Teridax, of course."

Fire rises beneath Tahu's armor.

"What did he do to you?"

Pohatu looks at him almost surprised.

"What did he do to you?" the Toa of Fire repeats, louder, more insistent. It's so clear now. The deception, the bitterness, the harshness, all of this - if this is truly their brother, who else but Makuta Teridax could turn him against them in such a cruel way, so thoroughly convince him they hate him?

He can't see her, so much does rage narrow his vision, but he hears Gali's voice: "Pohatu," and it shakes a little with his same anger, even if the only thing she can say is their brother's name, unable even to demand of his what she wants to know, because what else is there for a sister to say when her loved one has been molded into a bitter misshapen shade of himself by as dreadful a thing as her old enemy? "Pohatu - Pohatu--"

In the dim light, a stunned expression widens into a grin.

The Toa of Stone leans forward: "Do you want to know?" he whispers, conspiratorial, "Do you want to know what he did to me? The ghastly, horrible, torturous thing he's subjected me to?"

They must say something in their fury, some kind of affirmation: they need to know, of course they do! To better make him regret it!

Carefully, slowly, Pohatu places the lightstone down before himself.

Its faint light illuminates him better, more clearly, so that they can observe him much better: his armor is completely unmmarred from the rotting color given by a kraata's corruption, its shape is unchanged, his eyes are the same. He lets them watch closely as nothing in his appearence changes or shifts - as every single part of him remains perfectly still, the same as they've always known.

He watches them back; he smiles as he does, looking at them wait for something, anything.

He grins wider, perfectly identical to himself.

"He cared about me."

The look on their faces is just... Comical.

Pohatu laughs.

"Isn't that insane?" he taunts them. "Just absolutely demented? Who would ever think of that, to care for me? About me? To think I'm good, and useful? To find some sort of worth in me? He's always been drawn to revolutionary concepts, but this one might just be too far!"

He laughs.

He laughs so hard.

It's an almost hysterical sound that rattles the tunnel in its entirety and echoes through it, loud, erratic, horrible, stuck somewhere between genuine and mocking, amused and furious. It's so strong that he holds his face in his hand and folds in on himself, and the way his shoulders jump with every wailing chuckle almost makes him look like he is crying his heart out.

"What a stupid idea!" he struggles to shriek out as he laughs, "Devoting time to me! Reassuring me! Praising me! Me!"

He coughs.

Twice, thrice, a few more times.

He knocks on his chest to get all of it out of him until he finally stops, utterly winded, groaning as he tries to catch his breath. A giggle or two still falls from his mouth from time to time. It's getting harder to tell if they are not sobs.

A deep inhale - and his hands are back under his chin, an amused grin is back on his face, a sudden incoherent calm is back over him.

"So to answer the original question, the dirt one spent a hundred thousand years awake helping the only being who ever gave a widget about him with his plan while his brave siblings slept nice and tight in their canisters," he continues, right where he left off, as though he hadn't been caught in a rapturous maddened amusement just seconds earlier. "And he watched everything, from the Barraki's imprisonment to the Metru Nui civil war, to the Dark Hunters setting their sights on the heads of the Brotherhood, to the Toa Metru foiling a perfectly fine plan when they shouldn't have endangering hundreds of Matoran in the process, until a litte Rama told him that the other five had decided to get up for once. And then the rest you should know, if you haven't forgotten it already."

Silence.

Comical.

Absolutely comical.

Look at them stare, struggling to breathe.

Look at the disbelief dripping from their masks as though they just emerged from a pool of it.

Pohatu looks at them, nice and long, and everything in his body aches so terribly that he thinks what he feels might finally be release.

He's finally done it. Finally, finally, now that he has them here at his mercy, accused and tried for their failings, punished but not killed, he's purged every single drop of vitriol boiling within himself upon them and he's free. His guilt and hatred and phantom pains of limbs he never had is theirs now; he is allowed to live unburdened by the person their disgust of him angrily shaped him into.

"You lied to us," Gali speaks softly.

He tilts his head at her: "Hm."

"From the beginning."

"Put a date to this beginning. Mine is waking up with you five to Artakha's voice in that blasted chamber."

"You... You can't be him." her voice is unsteady. "You can't be him."

"Who?"

"Pohatu. My brother. You can't be him. Pohatu is-"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" he interrupts her. "You'd love for me to be dead."

"Pohatu isn't like this!" she almost roars. He can feel her - how she trembles furiously within the stone, desperate to break through it. "Pohatu isn't a liar! He isn't a being this overwhelmed by hatred!"

"You would know," the other croons, but his eyes sour. "The most trustworthy source is the one that wasn't there, isn't it."

"I know my brother!" Gali shakes; the binds around her creak like a poorly constructed dam against the rush of a raging river. "I've fought with him, joked with him, confided in him! I could recognize him anywhere! I know who he is! I love him!"

"YOU LEFT ME!"

The wall groans horribly with them as it crushes them within itself.

Takanuva, unseen, twitches barely as he remains trapped in a shapeless bad dream.

The being standing before them has his hands balled so tight into his own fists that they can hear the adaptive armor shriek as it dents and scratches itself. He heaves long deep breaths with difficulty, as though the air in the tunnel wasn't enough.

The lightstone is half buried within the rock, almost cracked: lances of its glow make him seem larger than he already is, and his eyes behind the visor burn.

"You LEFT me," he repeats. His breathless voice is a faraway avalanche coming ever closer, dragging the world down upon them with it. "You left us to die. You knew what would happen, and you did not tell me. You did not tell anybody - it was your secret safety exit, not mine, not the Matoran's, just yours. All yours. Just for the five of you. The Order of Mata Nui made it just for you," and here it turns into a whine, a whimper, a plead for help that mauls the fingers reaching out to lend their earnest aid, "Just for you five, nobody else, nobody else - there were only five canisters, weren't there? Weren't there? Not six, only five, because you all planned it together, behind my back, behind our little siblings' backs, because there was never any need for me or them, was there? No need at all, and no need to tell us, no need at all. Nobody wants to know they'll die, nobody does, nobody deserves to know they will die even when death can't be avoided so they can at least make peace with it or fight back against it, and that's why our little brothers and sister aren't little anymore, isn't it? Ah-"

His hands open, the stone clenches; his hands close, the stone clenches. He folds and unfolds his fists maniacally, histerically, as he struggles to breathe, mouth agape beneath his mask, eyes trained onto the agonizing Toa and barely seeing them.

"Ah, you are just like those pests," the words drool out of him like foamy spit, and by how hard he shakes he really does seem to be convulsing, "Those damned rats - ah, ah, Mata Nui truly has a fondness for liars and cowards, doesn't he? Must see himself in them, if he keeps choosing them as his guard - if he keeps favoring them, giving them power, trying to save them - ah, ah..."

"Pohatu," is all that Kopaka manages to choke out.

The being heaving and trembling turns to him with a slow, stunted motion and the empty eyes of a mad Rahi. His mind seems to be elsewhere, but he holds his gaze and waits.

Despite the pain and struggle to inhale, Kopaka's quiet voice fills the silence: "They did not know."

No answer meets him.

The wall softens against them. Their limbs ache so much that focusing on anything else is impossible, but at least breathing comes less hard.

The Toa of Ice hisses as to not crumble.

He needs to speak.

If he speaks, the other will calm.

If he calms, he will be more likely to listen.

If he listens, everything can be cleared, and this will stop.

He needs to speak.

Great Spirit damn him and his abysmal storytelling.

"The storm, and the Codrex," he struggles through the words as he tries to carefully construct his sentence. "I knew. I did not tell you. And I did not plan to. That is true. It seemed like a sound plan. As you said - nobody wants to know... Nobody wants to know they could die. It seemed like a good idea. It was not. It was not. I was... The only one who knew. And I did not tell anybody. When you... Cornered me - you can read me so easily. You always could. When you cornered me - I told you. And I - the way I worded myself, was wrong. I never... Meant... That anybody else knew. I was... It was... My plan."

"Kopaka-"

"My plan," he insists over Tahu's interruption. He knows what he wants to do, but he can take the blame. He wants to. It's his fault this is happening. "Only mine. You... I would have. All of you - I would have kept quiet. And we all would have gone in. You included. That was the plan. It was always the plan. All six of us. Your canister - it was there. For you. But I was the only one, who knew. I was-"

He hushes suddenly. His head cranes, his eyes shut. The sound of the stone that slams a dent into his temple comes with a delay due to how quickly it happens.

Lewa's cry out to him is muffled by the rock muzzling him.

His brother can't respond anyways.

"That's a lie," Pohatu only says hoarsely.

The wall hardens around their bodies again (Kopaka's doesn't even lament his pain at all, completely limp) and Onua lurches forward despite the ache ricocheting through his entire being, Pakari glowing faintly to lend him enough strength to fight back: "No!" he growls, "He's telling the truth! We didn't know! We didn't know! We were just as angry as you - if we'd-!"

His mask dims as his head falls back. Another ghastly bang marks, a bit late, the appearance of the dent that knocks him out.

"That's another lie," Pohatu repeats.

He sounds tired.

His eyes wander over his last three conscious siblings, frozen in a horrified terror: "Who's next," he asks, though there is no questioning inflection to his words - only a horrifying exhausted wrath that gnaws at his tendons even when there is barely anything left for it to eat. "Who else wants to lie to me. Don't be shy. Don't be shy, do it, you've done it a hundred times before. Don't be shy."

Lewa sobs. He wails within the cage that constricts his mask, looks at him with eyes wider than a moon, howls without words.

The muzzle tightens and chokes his scream inside it.

"They're not dead," Pohatu spits. "I am a Toa. I don't kill."

He knows it doesn't make them feel any safer, because he knows they can hear his entire body straining to scream no matter how much I might want to, no matter how much you would deserve it through his mouth.

He knows he doesn't want to. He knows he never wanted. He knows it has to be them - provoking him, poking at him like one does at a dying ember to make it spark some more. They want to break him completely and tear away from him the only thing they can't have: the knowledge that he's in the right. The knowledge that he's the only one out of them who was ever deserving of being called a Toa.

It must be them. It must be them. Because they hate him.

They hate him, and so he hates them.

So it must be them.

At least, his inaction makes them squirm.

Tahu calls out to him. He turns to him, so tired, so heavy.

"Those thousands of years ago," he speaks in a calculated manner, careful, because even though he wants to make him break the code he is still afraid of death (not because he is still trying to reach out to the Pohatu he knows, the brother he loves, that can't be it, because they hate him) "What did Kopaka tell you?"

"The truth," the Toa of Stone replies quietly. "And I know it was the truth, because it would have been easier to rip the words from inside his throat than wait for him to tell me."

"And what was the truth?"

"Your plan. He told me you and him were told what what to do. He told me the five of you would have gone in before the storm would have hit. He told me you would have been safe while it descended on Karda Nui the Matoran. He told me you would have gone into the canisters and waited until duty called you to action again."

"We didn't know," Gali whispers before her brother can stop her. "Lewa, Onua and I, we didn't know."

Her arms creak as they are almost flattened.

She bites back a scream.

"Of course you knew," Pohatu shuts her down with a bitter glance. "You must have known. Nobody else asked Kopaka any questions. Nobody else needed to be told. He said, we'll get to safety. We'll enter the Codrex. The five of you. Not me. Not the Matoran."

"That 'we' always included you, too," Tahu says. He sounds like he's begging him for something. "You're our brother."

His brother's fist tightens: "Then why didn't you come for me," he asks in that flat tone. "Why didn't you track me down. Why didn't you bother to chase after me to explain yourselves. Why didn't you force me into that blasted thing. Why didn't you drag me with you, kicking and screaming as I might have been."

In the dim light, the Toa of Fire falters; he gasps for air for a moment, searching for excuses, before he lowers his eyes and admits, ashamed: "I thought we wouldn't have time."

"You left me." Pohatu translates.

Tahu shakes his head.

"You left me," Pohatu repeats, harsher, voice cracking softly: "I was your brother and you left me to die."

Before any of them can argue otherwise, the wall closes around their bodies to crush them once more with an agonizing tardiness, piercing white hot pain through their brains like a drill; it wanes just as slowly to give them a moment of respite in which they struggle to recognize the echoes of their own groans and wails still traveling through the tunnels.

Pohatu's body obstructs what little light the cracked stone still shines as he collects Takanuva in his arms ever more easily than the first time he tried to do so. He moves his little brother's head to lean on his shoulder, so that he can be at least a bit more comfortable; he nuzzles it gently, comfortingly.

Poor Takua.

He didn't deserve this.

His last look at his siblings still sizzles with poison.

"Scream as loud as you want," is all he tells them, venom dripping from every syllable: "You have all the time in the world, and nobody to hear you."

Then his mask gleams; in the blink of an eye everything goes dark, and the wall clenches its grip around them again.

#bionicle #pohatu #tahu #gali #takanuva #onua #lewa #kopaka #orpiment au #random writing #violence tw #torture tw #meltdown tw #this is the part where i kill them with a thousand hammers #rollercoaster of emotions and backstory time babey!! nobody has a good time!!! #pohatu is having both the best and worst day of his life as all of his repressed feelings and bad coping mechanisms explode at once #his siblings meanwhile would need a week to process this but will get mostly a few hours AT BEST #as always i hope my vision for it comes through well #also since this is so packed. hopefully. it will elicit some visceral need to comment on it #i do hope that the change in character is also like. natural tho

[randomwriteronline]

He doesn't even hear them.

He's so preoccupied with frantically dispatching Rahkshi in the hopes that at least one of them will shoot down a few of the far too many flocks of furious flying Rahi that suddenly stormed the other side of the Colosseum out of nowhere before Teridax realizes what his supposed Turaga has allowed to happen and punishes him for it, that by the time he catches the tall figures that have crawled into his room like ants attracted by rotting meat it's too late for him to even have the time to stumble away from them.

The protosteel talons are deathly cold as the hand wielding them clamps around his mouth. He screams and shouts and wails as hard as he can, but the words are muffled, barely recognizable.

"Where did you put it?" Hahli hisses, eyes piercing holes into his head. Behind her Kongu moves quickly, searching. "Where is the Avohkii?"

The mask - they want the Mask of Light, why do they want the Mask of Light? What are they planning? To make another Toa of Light? With whom? The Av-Matoran should all be heavily guarded, they can't possibly have found a candidate in such a short time, they can't have freed them, he would have known, it would have been reported! Her talons are so sharp and he can't tear his eyes away from them, even though he knows she's not supposed to hurt him according to the Code; looking at the bright side, his terror is keeping him from giving away the Avohkii's location in the room that the Toa of Air is now all but quietly turning inside out. Why, why, why hasn't he melted it down already? He should have chucked it into the forges the second he had it! But no, he had to keep it, keep it here of all places (why? He's not sure - maybe out of some sort of curiosity that's better described as envy, maybe out of some kind of stupid hope that it would latch onto him and do something, anything, to make him more than who he is) and now they're going to find it inevitably and, and... And then what? What? He wracks his brain to try and understand the purpose of their search. It's not like they can gain its power anyways, and it's all but completely useless without a Toa to bear it. Unless Takanuva is still -- no, no, he cannot be, they can't have found him, Pohatu said he had taken care of him and he was safe and sound somewhere nobody else would have found him so he probably hid him away in a cave, or somewhere secluded and secret and safe, and - Pohatu! Of course! Of course, of course--

Hahli struggles to contain him as he thrashes and squirms in her grip, howling against her palm and through the mind link he developed between them on the Island for his Toa to fight off these ruthless thieves; she tries to hold him still, to clamp her hands around him tighter without suffocating him, but he is just so loud and her fingers are shaking.

Kongu abandons any semblance of carefulness and starts tearing through anything that can open one way or another, desperate to find the mask so they can leave, so he can stop ignoring him as he screams and cries for their brother to run to his aid, to come save him, save him, save him--

"Stop it!" his sister finally snarls.

Silence follows.

He can't hear her thoughts anymore, but for a second - for a long second - he feels as though the Suletu was back on his face, and instead of having his spine turned to the two of them he was looking right at them.

He can almost feel the way she erupts into the false Turaga's mind with a roar that is more of a sob through a new mental connection.

He can almost feel the stunned emptiness that responds to her for a long, infinite moment.

Akhmou's hands lay shaking on her wrist. She does not fight them when they pull it down, freeing his mouth, allowing him to yell as hard and loud and long as he might want, and yet he only looks at her directly in the eyes, silently, as he cups her palm in his own trembling ones with a gaze that begs her to lie to him.

The question refuses to come out of him: it curls on itself in the deepest recesses of his throat, shaking its head, protesting its own existence, trying to disappear so that the answer can never meet it.

But the door to his mind is still open a sliver, and the response slips through it.

Akhmou stares at her.

He starts shaking.

Harder.

Harder.

Harder.

Pohatu had come to visit him after he'd settled into this room that could be best described as Turaga Dume's office, while he was fighting with his too long shawl like a proper idiot.

He had beamed at him with a smile so bright it could have vaporized a kraata: "By the Great Spirit! Aren't you a fine distinguished sight!"

"Don't make fun of me," Akhmou had mumbled, embarrassed.

"I would never dare to, Turaga," the Toa had laughed good-naturedly. He'd made his way over to him to lift the fabric off of his shoulders before he could get too tangled in it, so they could both better figure out what to do with that blasted piece of cloth and curse whoever had decided to make it mandatory for this position together between quiet chuckles, as though sharing an inside joke; he'd placed it down on the Matoran's shoulders, and watched him adjust it to his liking. "There you go," he'd grinned proudly: "It suits you, doesn't it? Just a little long, but that can be fixed."

"You really think so?"

"There's plenty of scissors large enough in Metru Nui."

"No, I meant..."

"I know, I know! I was messing with you, little brother." then he'd hushed briefly as though he'd bitten his tongue, correcting himself in a sheepish tone: "Turaga. Sorry, force of habit."

Akhmou had hummed thoughtfully, and cleared his throat, and smoothed his shawl with a sudden important air about himself.

"Well now," he'd announced sternly, pushing his chest forward and furrowing his brows in the best parody of Onewa's reprimanding scowl, "Referring to me like that should get you a wack of my staff to the head for your insolence--"

(Pohatu had snorted. Loudly. Between the voice, the pantomime and the choice of words he hadn't been able to resist. He'd pressed his hands to his mouth and shut his eyes hard to stop himself from laughing, trembling as he failed so badly he needed to squat down before he doubled over and fell from holding back his hoarser and hoarser chuckles. Akhmou had started snickering with him after a few moments, telling him to "Quit- quit that, this is a very serious - I am very angry, this is a serious thing that is happening now" while they both struggled to come down from their giggling fits until the Toa had finally managed to suck in a big, big breath, calm down, stand back up, settle himself in a properly formal stance, and gesture at the Matoran to please continue his speech.)

He'd cleared his throat again: "As I was saying! Such an offense should get you a wack. However, as you have always been otherwise very polite to me, and as the only Toa to answer to me with the proper respect, I've decided very magnanimously to give you permission to continue calling me little brother. Only in informal settings, of course."

Pohatu had bowed very, very deeply before him, so deeply that his mask almost touched the ground, and said as obsequiously as he could: "Thank you, little brother."

Akhmou had struggled not to start laughing again and twisted his expression into a comical grimace: "This is a formal setting."

"Oh whoops."

(They'd choked on their chuckles for two good minutes. "You can't keep doing this," Akhmou had tried to steel himself long enough to tell him, "It's not - I can't work well if you keep-" as Pohatu sank back to the floor with a wheezed apology, arms wrapped around his middle like he was having the stomach ache of a lifetime.)

"You're forgiven," the Matoran had eventually conceded, even patting the top of the Toa's head - since it was in reach, for once.

The larger being had leaned into his palm with a grin, sitting up: "And here you were wondering if you'd be a good Turaga," he'd laughed, "You've already shown more patience for a silly Toa like me than anybody else would have bothered."

"Even Teridax?"

"Hm, maybe not yet to that level. He's had me around for a hundred thousand years, after all." then he'd laughed, gently, amused: "Hopefully you won't have to endure me for that long."

(Akhmou had never told him that Teridax terrified him.)

(But so long as Pohatu was there, he did not have to worry.)

(Because Pohatu would have protected him, and he would have never hurt him; because if Pohatu had survived so long at Teridax's side and never become like him, then he would been safe, too; because if Teridax had never hurt Pohatu in one hundred thousand years, then he would have never hurt him, either; because Pohatu cared about him, truly, and he wasn't sure he could say the same for many other beings. Because Pohatu was a Toa, and Toa don't kill.)

Pohatu had cupped his head in his own hands, brushing his thumbs against the cheeks of his mask: "Look at you," he'd said. Their foreheads had met with a soft sound, like they'd met in the dark cave on the island of Mata Nui. "I'm proud of you, little brother."

Akhmou had believed him.

He really had.

And now he...

Now he...

Now he...

Now...

Now...

Now...

"Hahli," Kongu calls.

His voice sounds a little hoarse.

The flying Rahi outside are screaming less and less against the Rahkshi, either chased away or shot out of the skies: their cover, requested by the Zatth's power, won't last for much longer.

A dull sheen disappears from his hand and into a bag.

"We should quickflee. Now."

His sister nods.

Her eyes linger for a moment again to the Matoran curled up on the floor, shaking pitifully, mask cradled in his hands, thin voice sobbing over and over the same few barely discernible murmurs as he drowns in a shawl too big for him.

She wraps her limbs and fins around her brother with her Faxon shining only briefly, to gift her the mimetic coat that allowed their ascension to this room to be mistaken for a slightly too forceful breeze nobody had any reason to worry about at all, and they abandon Akhmou to cry in the complete and total loneliness of an abyss that once again opens beneath him to swallow him whole, between walls of air denser than the water that once almost devoured him and a silence that screams like an unmarked grave.

#bionicle #akhmou #hahli #kongu #orpiment au #random writing #today we are Causing Akhmou Irreparable Damage #this is another non linear moment! next up: i come for your fucking kneecaps #orpiment pohatu has exactly two things that make him genuinely happy in his life and those are teridax and akhmou #and akhmou is holding onto him like his life fucking depends on him #as for teridax... #well.

[randomwriteronline]

For some reason i got evil Pohatu on my mind. Not the same one as the au i wrote once of him getting shadow leech'd, this a pre-canister Pohatu being welcomed in the brotherhood of makuta and possibly getting mildly brainwashed by Teridax via being given purpose and praise and goals and so on for roughly 100 thousand years

Pre-canister Pohatu is lonely and alone and sort of bitter and if hes already got his terrible sense of self-worth it might be even worse. I think if he found out earlier that they were going to desert the av-matoran (who so far have been his only purpose and perhaps the source of most of his sense of belonging and not being useless) to go in the codrex he might have flipped off tahu and kopaka and tried to use his mask to evacuate karda nui in time completely abandoning the rest of the mata. I can see him figuring those two are hiding something, cornering one of them (probably Kopaka) to have the whole thing explained to him, getting really mad, assuming the others are also in the know and this was kept specifically from him, and telling them to fuck off with their coward pods if they so wanted because he was going to save the matoran, you know, the thing he was built for. Cue him doing his best and probably failing at least in part, thus stumbling depressedly into the makuta afterwards and being taken in bc holy shit one of the toa mata??? Youre like one of the most important beings to the safety of the entire universe we need to make sure you dont die out there on your own considering your obvious tendency towards recklessness

Teridax isnt evil yet but it is still in his nature to scheme and make plans so hes like, im gonna make sure the toa likes me the best out of everybody here just in case something goes awry. You never know. And so Pohatu gets positive reinforcement and praise and generally being considered good and useful and in no time hes latched onto Teridax's side like a baby holding his moms hand hard enough to break her bones bc hes afraid of losing her while at the supermarket. He needs that positive attention like hes going to die, especially since he has no duty currently so hes feeling even more useless than ever. Teridax at first accidentally (purposefully when he starts thinking of The Plan) completely rewires his whole brain into being dependent from him so when he overthrows Miserix Pohatu just follows along seeing absolutely nothing wrong with his scheme.

Nobody outside of the brotherhood knows Pohatu is there bc on one hand, mask of speed makes him hard to track down/catch/see in general, and also Teridax is very adamant in keeping him stashed away for a rainy day because he is essentially one of the most secret weapons he has. Like, thats a whole ass toa mata at his disposal. Not just that, hes completely loyal to him AND has been marinating a grudge against his siblings for like 100 thousand years. AND - most importantly - hes inconspicuous. In the past thousands of years hes spent dragging the toa of stone around Teridax found out that beyond the power and the bitterness he is also naturally just soooo friendly. So personable. You can trust this motherfucker with any secret ever. He has told him so many tiny secrets that he KNOWS Pohatu has never spoken about or even written down that he could give him a whole powerpoint presentation of The Plan and have absolutely no fear whatsoever of anybody ever hearing from it. Hes the perfect double agent because when hes nice, 99% of the time he genuinely means it, and he is so earnest and convinced that hes doing the right thing that even Axonn wouldnt fucking figure him out. MAYBE the order of mata nui is aware of the fact that hes with the makuta at first, before the problem with the barraki, but they could lose track of him.

As soon as the other mata wash ashore on the island of mata nui Teridax sends in Pohatu to further his plan and thats when he realizes oh, im the only motherfucker who knows Anything. I need to play dumb. So he pretends to also have amnesia and plays out some kind of mildly stupid but affable toa of stone routine with all his siblings whom he has a very distorted hateful image of due to last seeing them One Hundred Thousand Years Prior and spending at least 80 of those soaked in Teridax's propaganda, and hes doing his absolute best not to sabotage them completely every chance he gets because Teridax needs them for the plan. He has a grudge against the Turaga as well for obvious reasons (you put my incredibly unhealthy parental figure boss in a rock and stole his matoran and reign you fucking whores) but not against the Matoran bc they couldn't really do much about it all after all. He and Akhmou have a genuinely sweet relationship based on "youre the only motherfucker who gets me and has also been massively manipulated by makuta" and he probably is also incredibly fond of Takua, which becomes a problem when he turns out to be the toa of light bc That's Bad For The Plan but also My Little Brother ;;

I don't know if hed manage to still reconnect with the mata properly as he gets to know them better (thus trying to sway them in Teridax's favor bc he loves them and he loves him and he doesnt want to lose either) or if hed be too fixated on his past bitterness to see through it, but also I don't think he'd kill. Hes still a toa and while he might be more desensitized to doing crueler things like encasing the piraka completely in rock to make them into statues, kinda like kopaka does when freezing someone, i still dont think hed be able to go for more outright deadly methods. Anyways yeah, take all this

#bionicle #pohatu #random talks #im falling asleeo so sorry if i forgot shut to say #orpiment au